| Down here I wait with all my benthic friends
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| Underneath the gate listening to lives end
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| Those with seven gills will investigate each thunderous crash and corresponding
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| shape
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| In great detail, I described you to them
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| In case the bridge is how you choose to end
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| I’d like to have some last words with you before you end up on the Farallone’s
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| rocky shores
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| Where the real beasts await to have their way
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| With all the failures washed out from the bay
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| A hundred years have past since just last autumn
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| Please come to the bay, see who now lives on the bottom
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| I’d like to have some last words before I forget how to walk upon these muddy
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| shores and cease entirely to breathe like a man
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| Seeing things only with the tips of my hands
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| My heart is crushed by the jaws of regret
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| Upon knowing where you now make your bed
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| The depths at which I’ve chained to you
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| I pray those shackles eventually rust through
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| Held under by chiton like lies
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| Amongst the corpses
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| I’ll never surface
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| Debris bouncing off my hide
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| Covered in detritus I’ve lost purpose
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| What comfort lies in years of hating me?
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| Haven’t you in some way found a rare peace?
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| Please realize your very soul’s at stake you’re still a man and I was just a
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| tool of fate
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| Your bite marks riddled my soul
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| It got damn cold with all those holes
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| So I left it on shore for all the gulls
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| Take it
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| There wasn’t much left
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| Take it
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| But it’s all yours
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| Take it |