I dug this grave
Just for you love her
With a metaphor and a sorry shovel
Your ghost
Better not come back to the shore
Where I left you in pieces
For the ocean to store

Bodies like the waves
That crashes and destroy
Playful by nature
Destructive and coy
When sharks have sense
The grains of salt surround my hands
It's turning
It's turning
It's turning

Your in Over your head
Your in Over your head

Underneath
This Eastern Coast
Lies The Girl
The Gun The Ghost

Underneath
This Dark Sea
Davey Jones
Waits for me