As they fall towards the deep sea
With words filling their mouths
The breath lies in their lungs with
Hostility
And they’ve woken with tremors
Soaking through to the bone
Quenching boiling hot tempers
Completely
We’ve been beggars of old dirt
While we’ve traded the gold.
Now bound by good will of
Simplicity
And our being will end there
Deep down in the sea
Since we bottled intentions
Naturally.