| Twisting through contorted limb
|
| Sober now from distant whim
|
| Batten down the hatches
|
| The storm approaches, the thunder crashes
|
| It cannot wait
|
| It must be now
|
| A shot’s been fired across the bow
|
| What presence here has been proclaimed?
|
| What once was unspoken is finally named
|
| So this is sinking, or so it seems
|
| Diving fathoms in lucid dreams
|
| With lungs now aching, begging for air
|
| And only cold water answers
|
| With a cinder block anchor, hope turns to despair
|
| Ripped from the womb and left to the ocean’s care
|
| Cold (Cold water!)
|
| Cold (Cold water!)
|
| So sink, let go, slip into the depths
|
| Let the pieces of a wasted life slip past the fingertips
|
| Rejoice, exult, a fitting conclusion to a melancholy myth
|
| A grave at sea, an absentee, whose presence won’t be missed
|
| (So this is sinking, or so it seems
|
| Diving fathoms in lucid dreams
|
| With lungs now aching, begging for air
|
| And only cold water answers)
|
| Twisting through contorted limb
|
| Sober now from distant whim
|
| Batten down the hatches
|
| The storm approaches, the thunder crashes
|
| It cannot wait
|
| It must be now
|
| A shot’s been fired across the bow
|
| (Picking at the bones that came to rest on the ocean bed
|
| Whose subtle pose tells a tale of those that sink like lead
|
| Summon the ire left hanging in moments that swings by the neck to and fro
|
| Assured by the light that there’s one way to go)
|
| So this is sinking, or so it seems
|
| Diving fathoms in lucid dreams
|
| With lungs now aching, begging for air
|
| And only cold water answers
|
| With a cinder block anchor, hope turns to despair
|
| Ripped from the womb and left to the ocean’s care
|
| Cold
|
| (Cold water)
|
| Cold
|
| (Cold)
|
| (Picking at the bones that came to rest on the ocean bed
|
| Whose subtle pose tells a tale of those that sink like lead
|
| Summon the ire left hanging in moments that swings by the neck to and fro
|
| Assured by the light that there’s one way to go)
|
| Picking at the fucking bones that came to rest on the ocean bed
|
| Whose subtle pose tells a tale of those that sink like lead
|
| (Sink like lead)
|
| Death is callous, strange, and sudden
|
| A pious, indignant glutton
|
| Whose hands are soft, warm, and inviting |