Cabin Fever
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
The Captain’s fore-arm like bunched-up rope
With A-N-I-T-A wriggling free on a skull’n’dagger
And a portrait of Christ, nailed to an anchor
Etched into his upper…
O o o’ Cabin Fever!
O o o’ Cabin Fever!
Slams his fucking tin-dish down
Our Captain, takes time to crush
Some Bloo-Bottles glowin in his gruel
With a lump in his throat, and lumpy mush
Thumbing a scrapbook stuck up with clag
And a morbid lump of Love in his flags
Done is the Missing, now all that remain
Is to sail forever, upon the stain
Cabin Fever! O o o’ Cabin Fever!
The captains free-hand is a cleaver
Which he fashions his beard, and he rations his jerky!
And carves his peg outta the finest mahogany!
Or was it Ebony?
Tallies up his loneliness, notch by notch
‘Cause the sea offers nothing to hold or touch
Notch by notch, winter by winter
Notch by notch, winter by winter
Now his leg is whittled, right down to a splinter
O o Cabin Fever! O o o Cabin Fever!
O the rollin sea keeps rollin on!
O the rollin sea keeps rollin on!
She’s everywhere! now that she’s gone!
She’s everywhere! now that she’s gone! Gone! Gone!
O Cabin Fever!
Welcome to his table, Beloved-Unconscious
Raisin her host of hair from her crooks
And struggling to summon one of her looks!
His arm now like coiled s-s-s-snakes
Whips all the bottles that he’s drunken
Like crystal – skittles about the cabin
Of a ship they’d been sailing
Five years sunken
