There's something, it's waiting to shout An ephemeral nausea, waiting to clock out Another round, it's on the house Try to forget it, try to forget this In my mouth, choking me out I'm sifting through madness for the word, the line, the way That it should be It just won't sound the way that I'd like it to be Meet me at the beach Bring some lunch and we will eat We'll watch the waves and we Will drown ourselves in it A dozen and we're through It will be nice, it will be soon Wept by the cool monsoons Our bodies laid to waste Can't quite catch what you said But it stuck right in my head Struggling through the currents overhead Our dreams swimming with the dead