Shipwrecked. Distressed. Where's you heart?
Saddest songs that I have come to write
are not as sinking as rising tides,
when I stood in the ocean and the sand slipped away.
I hold my breath and collapse in your wake.
The outside never seemed so beautiful,
but I am arctic pneumonia,
drowning in liquid lungs.
The current's too slow and it started pulling me away.
But, I'm still trying to captain the ship out of its slow descend.
The outside is beautiful. I'm drowning. I'm drowning.
My form is reborn when the morning comes again.
Abandoned ship. Abandoned ship.
If I had to choose one again. I know which one I'd choose.
Mayday.