There's something sad deep inside So
small that it wants to hide Inside its
own private room Not unlike your mother's
womb
And will you laugh at me (I will, I will) Talk
to me (I will, I will) Be bored by me
(I will, I will) Oh cry the sea, oh cry
the sea
Of all the men that seem to die And
their souls that don't survive They hold
their own separate space All controlled
by one set pace
Sea of death, where does it flow Weaving
sand a tomb it sews Transformed from
a liquid hell Perhaps towards a whisper
shell
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