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.