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Description
It always started lower than the aphotic level,
And now it's sinking down to the benthic zone.
Now it'll be more famous than ever before,
Forever singing its always-seen woes unbeknown.

Hitting on a rocks with a hammer of hurt,
Always in reach, but never seem to reach.
The seams have burst at the pressure of space,
Everything's been an anticipatory breach.

Glass shatters with a pitter patter, pitter patter,
Wall splinters with a split or clatter, spilt or clatter,
Ground thumps with a pounding boom, pounding boom,
Corpse lies with a rotting tomb, rotting tomb.

Bomb bursts with a spit or splatter, spit or spatter,
Mirror breaks with a creak and shatter, creak and shatter,
Fire erupts with a smoke and fume, smoke and fume,
Light unsettles with a loss and gloom, loss and gloom.

Throat closes with a choking gasp, choking gasp,
Lock breaks with a holding clasp, holding clasp,
Breath sighs with a losing grasp, losing grasp.

Now it's just lying in the dirt of an obsequy,
While the clouds rain as ice of the obsequious.
Speaking the words of reverent blasphemy,
It's sitting in a crowd of the roaring blasphemous.

Coerced into burying the misnamed spurious axiom,
Not a living soul understands the undeniable aphorism.
The commonality is the lack of absence of aconitum,
Maybe one day, it'll follow with its genuine acrotism.

Pitter patter, pitter patter, is the sound of the glass,
I would have hoped for more class.
Split or clatter, split or clatter, is the sound of the wall,
I would never have guessed at all.
Pounding boom, pounding boom, is the sound of the ground,
I would not commit to find the drowned.
Rotting tomb, rotting tomb, is the smell of the corpse,
I would never have been so warped.

Split or splatter, split or splatter, is the sound of the bomb,
I would have hoped for the calm.
Creak and shatter, creak and shatter, is the sound of the mirror,
I would never have been nearer.
Smoke and fume, smoke and fume, is the taste of the fire,
I would have hoped to be a little higher.
Loss and gloom, loss and gloom, is the sight of the light,
I would never have had to fight.

Choking gasp, choking gasp, is the sound of the throat,
I would have hoped to be able to float.
Holding clasp, holding clasp, is the sight of the lock,
I would never go take a walk.
Losing grasp, losing grasp, is the sight of the breath,
I would have hoped to inch closer to death.

Description
It always started lower than the aphotic level,
And now it's sinking down to the benthic zone.
Now it'll be more famous than ever before,
Forever singing its always-seen woes unbeknown.

Hitting on a rocks with a hammer of hurt,
Always in reach, but never seem to reach.
The seams have burst at the pressure of space,
Everything's been an anticipatory breach.

Glass shatters with a pitter patter, pitter patter,
Wall splinters with a split or clatter, spilt or clatter,
Ground thumps with a pounding boom, pounding boom,
Corpse lies with a rotting tomb, rotting tomb.

Bomb bursts with a spit or splatter, spit or spatter,
Mirror breaks with a creak and shatter, creak and shatter,
Fire erupts with a smoke and fume, smoke and fume,
Light unsettles with a loss and gloom, loss and gloom.

Throat closes with a choking gasp, choking gasp,
Lock breaks with a holding clasp, holding clasp,
Breath sighs with a losing grasp, losing grasp.

Now it's just lying in the dirt of an obsequy,
While the clouds rain as ice of the obsequious.
Speaking the words of reverent blasphemy,
It's sitting in a crowd of the roaring blasphemous.

Coerced into burying the misnamed spurious axiom,
Not a living soul understands the undeniable aphorism.
The commonality is the lack of absence of aconitum,
Maybe one day, it'll follow with its genuine acrotism.

Pitter patter, pitter patter, is the sound of the glass,
I would have hoped for more class.
Split or clatter, split or clatter, is the sound of the wall,
I would never have guessed at all.
Pounding boom, pounding boom, is the sound of the ground,
I would not commit to find the drowned.
Rotting tomb, rotting tomb, is the smell of the corpse,
I would never have been so warped.

Split or splatter, split or splatter, is the sound of the bomb,
I would have hoped for the calm.
Creak and shatter, creak and shatter, is the sound of the mirror,
I would never have been nearer.
Smoke and fume, smoke and fume, is the taste of the fire,
I would have hoped to be a little higher.
Loss and gloom, loss and gloom, is the sight of the light,
I would never have had to fight.

Choking gasp, choking gasp, is the sound of the throat,
I would have hoped to be able to float.
Holding clasp, holding clasp, is the sight of the lock,
I would never go take a walk.
Losing grasp, losing grasp, is the sight of the breath,
I would have hoped to inch closer to death.