If a boat's big enough
it becomes a nation,
suitable for all declared
wars and such, but on
the way up to that, it
must ship. Out, in
many ports through
storm and shit. I
know that's it. How
it works, I'd say.
I think. Well, if
not, whose to say
out there otherwise?
Sea ahoy! Call maritime
law on all shores you
can reach with a crabbed
martial claw of some
size, and sigh. With all
this dry land, we could
love it much more. If
it weren't for the sand
in our sealost shoes
and souls unspanned.
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