- cifra
Who might know of this?
The notes we left
Our final thoughts
And we knew they'd get ours out
*Sink, sink*
*Drowned* by our country
Old machine
Is crushed and forgotten
Never surface again
The air runs out
The captain's first
So we take to memories
And layers of clothes
Up there the family weeps
Outside hammers
Noises sound like the end
And we will never see them
Sink, sink
Drowned by our country
Great machine
Is crushed, old and rotten
Never surface again
till the end.
