South of the river's mouth
Migration slopes slowly towards mainland
There, the salt air
Fills the gills of the dead bait in hand

The deep is in riot, the coastline is quiet
Asleep and divided in bands
While beer halls all revil, drunk and disheveled,
Helplessly wading the diver is down

And they're chumming the oceans
The signal is sent,
Recieved and repsonded to
The water is red, red, red, red

We're downed, downed as the hand of god
Chokes the driftwood with dead weight and brine
And spawning the detailed decline
Via dorsal cuts, hooks, sink and line

The anchors have setlled, the tanks are full level
The flag has been raised half-mast on the bow
And harpoons are loaded, the cage has been lowered
The mask's on, the diver is down, now

And they're chumming the oceans
The signal is sent
I think he's in trouble
The water is red, red, red, red