Another seeming wave of some big consequence
A modern antiquity becoming relevant
The greatest chance for hope lies in the irony
Your fame's also your fate we watch with bated breath
Are you washed up? I'm not sure
Closed world on open sea
You hooked me with your dark eyes
But you prey upon the weak... and it's your week
Oh, oh, oh, oh... pull me under
Oh, oh, oh, oh... with your bite
Oh, oh, oh, oh... Oceana
It gets better all the time
You've no idea of hate, nor any love to give
Your fame's your great escape, if it will bring you back
Are you washed up? I'm not sure
Closed world on open sea
But you hooked me with your dark eyes
But you prey upon the weak... and it's your week
Oh, oh, oh, oh... pull me under
Oh, oh, oh, oh... with your bite
Oh, oh, oh, oh... Oceana
It gets better all the time
I see red again
Oh, oh, oh, oh... pull me under
Oh, oh, oh, oh... with your bite
Oh, oh, oh, oh... Oceana
It gets better all the time
Ah... Ah... Ah...
Oh, oh, oh, oh... pull me under
Oh, oh, oh, oh... with your bite
Oh, oh, oh, oh... Oceana
It gets better all the time
Oh, oh, oh, oh... pull me under
Oh, oh, oh, oh... with your bite
Oh, oh, oh, oh... Oceana
It gets better all the time
It gets better all the time
It gets better all the time
I see red again