These are the sentiments

Of a cold blooded cynic

So believe me when I say,

I would love nothing more

Than for everything,

To end unpleasantly

Concrete shoes, rising tide,

Grey skies, let none survive

Go!

Don't say I didn't warn you

I would rather see your face in Hell,

Than speak another word

of this perfect world

I would rather see your face in Hell,

Than speak another word

of this perfect world.

To be buried beneath the waves,

The sailor's grave is all that I crave

Bury me (bury me),

5000 fathoms deep


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