Believe this
As you convalesce:
I'm seasick.
I'm bleeding from open sores.
Four days ago, you said soon
That we'd hit shore

And finally, we've found this land.
For all the gifts the people give,
Bloody beaches and severed hands
Is what we return.
I'm kind of nauseous.
Either I don't like this,
Or I'm still seasick

And I find it hard,
It's so hard, I'm finding out
You're a liar again

No, I never said enough

You gave me what was never yours.
You know what? I don't want it.