Out on the horizon
A line of glowing green
And the squids all flock towards it
That flourescent glean

What is it to them do you think?
An unknown beacon emitting warmth
Do they think they'll find love
As they all commute north

I suppose they are tricked and trapped and tangled in nets
Blinded by the light
Drawn towards the threat
From the green glowing beacon
Their path was set
Into the end and out of the wet.