The Tempest (The Siren's Song, The Banshee's Cry) - The Agonist

I say! Why do you grip so hard, that way?

Of what is there left to be afraid?

Let the waves elope with your empty remains

They erode your foothold, anyway

They mosh, unaware of their own might

Hypnotizing, shoreward swallowing

They storm me, ganging up on me!

What’s become of the home that supported me?

They spit me back after drowning me

Then slip away, dragging their fingers behind them

But you expel the salt

Sink down lower than the undertow would bring you

You just don’t seem to see

How returning to them is so far beneath you

But then, how come my corpse – it rises up?

And it is my soul that has sunk?

Hear! That sound rings out across the land

Over the roaring waves, through every grain of sand

Is it of loss and pain or made to seduce man?

Listen! The oohs and aahs of funeral spectators, death admirators

As they bathe in ritual memories and fake tears

Life’s underrated, jaded and hatred

Isolate you, so abandon your fears

And spread my ashes like a bouquet of seeds

Far up, far out…

To show you what I’m made of

Kill the parasite in every co-dependent

Brain fallen slave to pull the waves

The pull of the waves

The natural decay

Of all that is made

Is how redemption is paid

But you expel the salt

Sink down lower than the undertow would bring you

You just don’t seem to see

How returning to them is so far beneath you

Say, Dickinson, who do you blame for your romantic death wish?

And does it remain true that angry winds feel like a lover’s breath?

That’s why you grip so hard

No! It’s simply condition keeping me locked in!

I could escape if I knew how to swim!

Look… feel… you’re aided

Wind, sun and strangers have come to guide you, so the choice is clear

We’ll spread your ashes like a bouquet of seeds

Far up, far out…

So show us what you’re made of

We’ll kill the parasite in every co-dependent

Brain fallen slave to the pull of the waves

Playfully badgering

Casually capturing

To escape the surface chaos

Is to sink – not to swim

You say to release the stranglehold keeping me safely beneath

But, as sea foam rises up, tickles my lips and sinks inside

Doesn’t the choice of future paths become a matter of pride?

When I’ve struggled so hard to excel, why is it so unappealing to survive?