On the sun-deck, a lord looks at the foam Drinks champagne, eats Belouga, the night's long It's quiet, icebergs pass along There's no wind, says a lady, but it's cold
On the below-deck, the people dream of something From tables lit by white candles What are you doing here? I am lost, says a boy I can't sleep, says the other, it's so warm
Slowly, with a sigh, the fickelness of fate Ripped open the hull, tearing it patiently Ice blade cleaves the iron, it's time to drown our sins In a delicate screeching, iron tears
The sun-deck shivers, the below-deck screams Water is gushing up without invitation Swallowing up mouths, swallowing up noses And the dreams and the candles, we should have eaten when it was warm
Tonight there's no wind, the ocean is calm and quiet It's waiting, waiting, catching its breath It's true it could rain But quietly the sea is waiting for its children The howling sea
Do you hear? I hear nothing Save our souls, save our souls, help us Marconi, help us I'm gonna swim straight ahead Row, Mc Cawley, row Mayday, mayday, mayday
The below-deck is floaded, the machine have stopped And the lord, slightly troubled, slowly swallows the finest Calvados