I look out on blue ocean waves
And think upon little fish graves.
I think about all the slaves
On ships sailing far, far away.
I say these must be better days
As plastic floats down to the cray.
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I look out on blue ocean waves
And think upon little fish graves.
I think about all the slaves
On ships sailing far, far away.
I say these must be better days
As plastic floats down to the cray.