Return To The Violence Of The Ocean Floor

One, two, three, four, five

One, two, three, four, five

I've got a spirit

Made out of sand

Sometimes it slips through my fingers

Back onto the beach

Said I've got a spirit

Made out of sand

Sometimes it slips through my fingers

Back onto the beach

In some kind of lust

In some kind of lust

In some kind of lust

To return to the violence of the ocean floor

To return to the violence of the ocean floor

So I kneel down

And gather it up

Grain by grain

I have to keep it safe

I have some things to say

Like "You should have been a writer, you should have played guitar

But those kids keep coming down the fucking hill"

"You should have been a writer, you should have played guitar

But those kids keep coming down the fucking hill"

Or "You should have been a writer, you should have played guitar

But your face looks like a statue in the dark

Like a candle that is held up to a mirror

Or the terrible glimpse of a shark

Within your idiot heart"

I heard you hate it just based on your principles now

I heard you hate it just based on your principles now

I heard you hate it all just based on your principles now

So I kneel down

Down into your burning sand, singing

One, we got the spirit

Two, we got the music

And three, we got the past

And four, we got the future

And five, we got some kind of lust

Some kind of lust

Some kind of lust

To return to the violence of the ocean floor

To return to the violence of the ocean floor

To return to the violence of the ocean floor

To return to the violence of the ocean floor