The Sighting Is a Portent of Doom
Carach Angren Lyrics

In the age of electricity and oil,
During the era of modern advancements in technology and fuel consumption,

my tugboat ploughs through waveless liquid soil.
I navigate through still waters resembling soil, with my ship serving as a plow.

Cruising at thirteen knots on a pitch black sea.
I sail at a steady pace of thirteen knots through the completely dark and foreboding sea.

There's a strange object on the radars in front of me.
I detect an unusual object on my monitoring devices positioned ahead of me.

Still nothing I can see. Just an open dreary sea...
Despite the equipment picking up something, I cannot physically see any object nor can I see anything besides the vast expanses of water.

Several attempts to contact that what appeared to be the size of a ship.
I tried to communicate with the object that looked like it had the mass of a ship.

No response 'till I receive transmissions of hostile nature.
I didn't receive any feedback, but instead, the messages I received were calling me hostile names and cursing at me.

These voices cursing my goddamn name. Hell, is this witchcraft or am I insane?
The voices echoed curses and profanity, causing me to question whether this was supernatural or if I was going mentally insane.

All of a sudden a dark silhouette ascends through ghostlike mist.
Out of nowhere, a dark figure emerged while cloaked in a haunting mist.

While it comes closer, I recognize the image of an old deserted ship.
As it draws nearer, I can distinguish the outline of an abandoned ship from the past.

I am aghast at the sight of a derelict vessel sailing this awkward night, appearing like a black floating cadaver.
Immensely startled, I gaze at the decaying boat creeping along the water, resembling a morbid corpse amid this peculiar night.

There's not one single man aboard.
There were absolutely no signs of a human presence on the ship.

Her torn sails cloaking her like a cobwebbed widow, posing against this sad nightmarish horizon.
The vessel's tattered sails draped her frame like a mourning widow while she sat in stark contrast to the ominous surroundings.

The temperature suddenly dropped. My great-grandfathers clock, just ticking, now stopped.
Without warning, the temperature plunged, and even the old-fashioned device that had been running stopped ticking.

I am smothered by a sudden shroud of fear.
A wave of worry envelops me instantaneously.

For there's a ghost ship 'pon a funereal quest.
This is evidently a detested phantom ship on a mission related to the deceased.

With a black bird circling hypnotic around its rocking empty crow's nest.
An ebony bird circled fascinatingly above the vessel's rocking and unoccupied mainmast.

Fortunately this atrocious mystery sets sail away from me.
Thankfully, this dreadful mystery moves away from me and sails in a different direction.

Some sailors claim other seamen beheld such sights.
I have heard from other sailors that certain seafarers have seen similar things to what I am witnessing now.

Most died weird deaths during fog-clad days and nights.
These occurrences are often linked to bizarre fatalities that take place when heavy mist enshrouds days and nights.

The ship vanished as suddenly as it appeared.
Just as abruptly as it surfaced, the vessel disappears into the night.

Should I feel fear? Was it even here?
I am now unsure if it was physically there or a mere apparition, which raises the question of whether or not to be afraid.