The Agonist - The Tempest (The Siren`s Song; The Banshee`s Cry)


The Tempest (The Siren's Song; The Banshee's Cry)
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
Shore-ward 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 spectator’s
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?

http://rockerek.hu/