Two carpenters of failing worth, We found ourselves in disrepair, But didn't care. So we took the wood from that old tree, Built a coffin on the sea.
Forget the pain you once held dear, It cannot help you here. Did it ever help you anywhere? You're kneeling on a memory, some Pyrrhic victory But
I am not the Devil under the water Pulling you down by your own wooden nails Splitting and shriveling seeping out of me God I am afraid of the songs