From the shore a tattered mast appears over the horizon, listing aimlessly, for how long nobody knows for sure.  A ship discovered adrift at sea with no sign of the captain or crew, not a single sign of life and nobody left to tell the tale.  With the tables set, no sign of a struggle, the galley stocked with all our worldly possessions, sheathed swords stowed under the bunks; we leave no indication of what could have transpired, no clues and no trace.  Maybe nobody will ever know the whole story.  Maybe that was the plan all along.  The only thing we leave behind - a mystery between a place and time. This nautical mystery, combined with the very true story of the True Cost of Coal from our friends at the Beehive Collective, are the muse for this song. But it's not just a history lesson reinterpreted. 

Sometimes we must decide to take matters into our own hands.  Cast away, set sail for the promise of a place where we can live our lives by their own rules.  In the face of ramped oppression, sometimes we must forge our own way; dive into the uncertainty.  There’s always a solution as long as we have the strength to keep the search alive. 

May this rendition of the Mary Celeste help show you the way to safe passage through bitter storms and thrashing seas. 

With 1701 reasons to leave it all behind, Lanterns guide our way on the open sea. 

Stream 1701 at For the Love of Punk. 


As we all stare out across the endless sea
It seems to me – at least for now - that we are stranded helplessly
Another day spent wasted sketching plans in the sand
Praying for an epiphany, or at least for a steady hand
Building the will and the courage to make a stand
Can we rise up, or will we fall before we reach dry land
I’ve been staring at documents not proud of this
But somehow, you’ve got to pay the rent
It's my blood on that red cent
But it's not enough to save
Like anchors we’ve been let down
And chained to this company town
When freedom is the outlaw, only outlaws can be free
I’ve been staring at callous eyes that like to roll the dice
Advancing in belt loop size
Profit is where their focus lies so they never truly see
Our captors claim no escape
But you can’t catch what you cannot taste
When the plank’s 8 shoulders deep
That’s the company you keep
We can’t be saved
By paper and a pen
When the firing range is loading up their guns
None of these walls can hold ideas

Interest is building homes, so I’ve been told
More than I-O-U notes
Pockets lined with gold, but it's not our kind of change
We’re rising as waters boil
To plant flags in enemy soil
If it's not our space to own, it will be our space to grow

We can’t be saved
By paper and a pen
The promise we made will take us to the end
None of these walls can hold ideas
When they flow like oxygen
None of these walls can hold ideas