There is a castle on a mountain,|
In a land of mortal flesh.
And in the castle is a fountain
Full of sand that isn't blessed.
On the shore there sits a siren
Singing silence to be free,
Telling stories of a pirate
Who could sail an endless sea.
And a quarter waxing crescent
Causes sand to ebb and heave.
For no water's ever present
In a land of make-believe.