Salt in the beard, blood on the teeth
The wind was sharp, the rations brief
A month at sea, no fruit in sight
The gums would bleed before the night

The doctor knew, the captain feared
The skin went pale, the eyes grew weird
We prayed for shore, for citrus grace
But death moved slow from face to face

Lemons in the hold, locked far below
Rotting while we suffered so
They knew the cure but held it tight
And watched us vanish with the night

Now shelves are full, the lights stay on
But something deep inside is gone
The hunger’s masked by plastic wrap
We’re dying slow in every app

No sails to hoist, no mast to climb
Just pills and screens to pass the time
But still the soul begins to fade
When truth is stored and not conveyed

Lemons in the hold, behind the glass
History repeats so fast
We scroll past warnings, soft and sour
And wonder why we’ve lost the hour

What’s old is new, what’s known ignored
The fruit of thought tossed overboard
It isn’t salt that makes us weak
But all the truths we fail to speak

Lemons in the hold, the price we pay
For throwing ancient light away
The sailors died with eyes wide shut
And now we rot in just as much

A bitter cure, a simple truth
Forgotten once, then lost in youth