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When all the world was made of wooden ships
And night was scarred by pools of lantern-flame
I tasted words like honey on your lips

My voice was made of swords and pistol-grips
Of weapons brought to wound and scar and maim
When all the world was made of wooden ships

But all my force could not force ownership
While occupation I swore and proclaimed
I tasted words like honey on your lips

I wrote a travelogue with fingertips
From here to there and back from whence I came
When all the world was made of wooden ships

I mapped my journey out upon your hips
And charted lands I’d later come to claim
I tasted words like honey on your lips

Though over the horizon I have slipped
And can’t recall when last I heard my name
When all the world was made of wooden ships
I tasted words like honey on your lips

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