I say!
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Why do you grip so hard, that way?
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Of what, is there left to be afraid?
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Let the waves elope with your empty remains.
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They erode your foothold, anyway.
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They mosh, unaware of their own might.
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Hypnotizing.
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Shore-ward swallowing.
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They storm me, ganging up on me!
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What's become of the home that suppored me?
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They spit me back after drowning me then slip away dragging their fingers behind them.
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But you expel the salt, sink down lower than the undertow would being you.
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You just don't seem to see how returning to them is so far beneath you.
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But then how come my corpse -- it rises up?
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And it is my soul that has sunk?
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Hear!
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That sound rings out across the land, over the roaring waves, through every grain of sand.
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Is it of loss and pain or made to seduce me?
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Listen!
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The oohs and aahs of funeral spectators death admirators as they bathe in ritual memories and fake tears.
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Life's underrated.
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Jaded and hatred isolate you so abandon your fears.
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As they spread my ashes like a bouquet of seeds.
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Far up, far out... to show you what I'm made of.
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Kill the parasite in every co-dependent brain fallen slave to the pull of the waves.
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The pull of the waves; the natural decay of all that is made is how redemption is paid.
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Say Dickinson, who do you blame for your romantic death wish?
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And does it remain true that angry winds feel like a lover's breath?
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That's why you grip so hard.
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No!
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It's simply condition keeping me locked in!
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I could escape if I knew how to swim!
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Look... feel... you're aided.
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Wind, sun and strangers have come to guide you so the choice is clear.
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As they spread my ashes like a bouquet of seeds.
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Far up, far out... to show you what I'm made of.
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Kill the parasite in every co-dependent brain fallen slave to the pull of the waves
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Playfully badgering, casually capturing.
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To escape the surface chaos is to sink -- not to swim.
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You say to release the stranglehold keeping me safely beneath.
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But as the sea foam rises up, tickles my lips and sinks insides, doesn't the choice of future paths become a matter of pride?
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When I've struggled so hard to excel, why is it so unappealing to survive.
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The Tempest (The Siren's Song; The Banshee's Cry)
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The Agonist |