The coffin floats in the seaside waters,
the rocks hitting it from the bay,
slowly it will float to the shore,
taking its load onto the land,
and it will,
drift,
drift,
drift,
to the sand,
the bin as it floats,
turning the contents inside,
it was rejected from the afterlife,
left to the seas of Nell,
and it will,
drift,
drift,
drift,
away from hell,
the child came to the case,
saw the wretched contents,
pushed it back to where it come,
never again to let its wickedness be set free,
and it will,
drift,
drift,
drift,
forever lost at sea.