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EXPLAIN LYRICS

Down here I wait with all my benthic friends

Underneath the gate listening to lives end
Those with seven gills will investigate each thunderous crash and
corresponding shape
In great detail, I described you to them
In case the bridge is how you choose to end
I'd like to have some last words with you before you end up on the Farallone's
rocky shores
Where the real beasts await to have their way
With all the failures washed out from the bay
A hundred years have past since just last autumn
Please come to the bay, see who now lives on the bottom
I'd like to have some last words before I forget how to walk upon these
muddy shores and entirely cease to breathe like a man
Seeing things only with the tips of my hands
My heart is crushed by the jaws of regret
Upon knowing where you now make your bed
The depths at which I've chained to you
I pray those shackles eventually rust through
Held under by chiton like lies
Amongst the corpses
I'll never surface
Debris bouncing off my hide
Covered in detritus I've lost purpose
What comfort lies in years of hating me?
Haven't you in some way found a rare peace?
Please realize your very soul's at stake you're still a man and I was just a tool
of fate
Your bite marks riddled my soul
It got damn cold with all those holes
So I left it on shore for all the gulls
Take it
There wasn't much left
Take it

But it's all yours

Take it

La Brea Tar Pits (Pseudomonas Putida)

I awaken from what can hardly be called sleep
Starving as if I had two stomachs to feed
An ebb and tide of images in my mind of the two of you keeps my gut painfully empty
The tar boils and churns
I carve out and deny these infections on my soul and watch as they spawn a life of their
own
Leaving snail trails of scars over what little of me is still pure
As they crawl towards where the tar boils and churns
Aborted parts of my psyche are all found nourishing themselves at these pits
Bubbling forth from the recesses of my mind where all I am slowly falls in
Abominations of my being incessantly teething
I awaken from what can hardly be called sleep
Starving as if I had two stomachs to feed
An ebb and tide of images in my mind of the two of you keeps my gut painfully empty