Old Ocean, you do not easily let the avid eyes of natural science divine the thousand secrets
Of your internal enigma: you are modest. Unlike man who boasts incessantly - over
Trifles, unable to grasp but a glimpse of the voidness that is to be his sorry fate.
The different species of life that you nurture have not sworn kinship amongst themselves.
The varying temperaments and conformations of each one explain what at first appears
An anomaly. And so it is with man, who yet is missing an excuse such as that, living like
A savage in his den, not to acknowledge his fellow crouching alike in another lair.
Old Ocean, your physical magnitude is only discernible if one can imagine the energy
Needed to beget your entire mass.
I wonder how a mere glance could ever encompass the lengths of your splendor.
How could man's mundane perspective even comprehend a splinter of this darkest
Fortress that makes out to be your most impressive anatomy?
Mankind, in a preposterous attempt to gain the shape condign of their allowedly
Impressive idea of what beauty can be to the ardent and somewhat well-trained
Abstractionist, cannot ever equal you in volume, shape or glory.
Let this adorable frog puff itself up as much as it pleases and do stay calm: it will
Never be a match for you. It will never be a match for you.
Old Ocean, Your Waters Are Bitter. They have the very same taste as the bile which
Criticism secretes upon the fine arts, the sciences, the wisdom, the knowledge that
Is the solitary confinement for the lone wanderers, pariahs to the masses, outcasts,
Unrealised redeemers and dreamers, those pitiful souls, wretched bums that strayed
Too far in the eyes of the voice of normalcy.
The great universal human family is a utopia worthy of the most paltry logic. Besides,
From the spectacle of your fecund breasts emerges the notion of ingratitude, for one
Thinks immediately of those innumerable parents ungrateful enough towards the
Creator to abandon the fruit of their sorry unions.
Mankind must certainly feel its imperfections strongly indeed, devastatingly even -
For it is painfully obvious that, at least, threequarters of them have their roots in the
Soil of its own responsibility.
And below it all thrones that observant patriarch, contemporary of the first epochs
Of our suspended globe, smiling with pity when present at the tribal factionism
Choosing his formidable belly as their pathetic playground.
I see a thousand leviathans sprung from human hands. Those cataclysmic orders
Pierced by shrieks of the wounded and cannon blasts - such a grand aural hell purposely
Made to annihilate but a mere instant.
To be swallowed by this formidable maw, presenting a spectacle that I so dearly adore.
As they all followed deep into the last thing they saw - that global receptacle
That one day will come ashore."
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Schammasch - Your Waters Are Bitter Lyrics
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Old Ocean, you do not easily let the avid eyes of natural science divine the thousand secrets
Of your internal enigma: you are modest. Unlike man who boasts incessantly - over
Trifles, unable to grasp but a glimpse of the voidness that is to be his sorry fate.
The different species of life that you nurture have not sworn kinship amongst themselves.
The varying temperaments and conformations of each one explain what at first appears
An anomaly. And so it is with man, who yet is missing an excuse such as that, living like
A savage in his den, not to acknowledge his fellow crouching alike in another lair.
Old Ocean, your physical magnitude is only discernible if one can imagine the energy
Needed to beget your entire mass.
I wonder how a mere glance could ever encompass the lengths of your splendor.
How could man's mundane perspective even comprehend a splinter of this darkest
Fortress that makes out to be your most impressive anatomy?
Mankind, in a preposterous attempt to gain the shape condign of their allowedly
Impressive idea of what beauty can be to the ardent and somewhat well-trained
Abstractionist, cannot ever equal you in volume, shape or glory.
Let this adorable frog puff itself up as much as it pleases and do stay calm: it will
Never be a match for you. It will never be a match for you.
Old Ocean, Your Waters Are Bitter. They have the very same taste as the bile which
Criticism secretes upon the fine arts, the sciences, the wisdom, the knowledge that
Is the solitary confinement for the lone wanderers, pariahs to the masses, outcasts,
Unrealised redeemers and dreamers, those pitiful souls, wretched bums that strayed
Too far in the eyes of the voice of normalcy.
The great universal human family is a utopia worthy of the most paltry logic. Besides,
From the spectacle of your fecund breasts emerges the notion of ingratitude, for one
Thinks immediately of those innumerable parents ungrateful enough towards the
Creator to abandon the fruit of their sorry unions.
Mankind must certainly feel its imperfections strongly indeed, devastatingly even -
For it is painfully obvious that, at least, threequarters of them have their roots in the
Soil of its own responsibility.
And below it all thrones that observant patriarch, contemporary of the first epochs
Of our suspended globe, smiling with pity when present at the tribal factionism
Choosing his formidable belly as their pathetic playground.
I see a thousand leviathans sprung from human hands. Those cataclysmic orders
Pierced by shrieks of the wounded and cannon blasts - such a grand aural hell purposely
Made to annihilate but a mere instant.
To be swallowed by this formidable maw, presenting a spectacle that I so dearly adore.
As they all followed deep into the last thing they saw - that global receptacle
That one day will come ashore."
Of your internal enigma: you are modest. Unlike man who boasts incessantly - over
Trifles, unable to grasp but a glimpse of the voidness that is to be his sorry fate.
The different species of life that you nurture have not sworn kinship amongst themselves.
The varying temperaments and conformations of each one explain what at first appears
An anomaly. And so it is with man, who yet is missing an excuse such as that, living like
A savage in his den, not to acknowledge his fellow crouching alike in another lair.
Old Ocean, your physical magnitude is only discernible if one can imagine the energy
Needed to beget your entire mass.
I wonder how a mere glance could ever encompass the lengths of your splendor.
How could man's mundane perspective even comprehend a splinter of this darkest
Fortress that makes out to be your most impressive anatomy?
Mankind, in a preposterous attempt to gain the shape condign of their allowedly
Impressive idea of what beauty can be to the ardent and somewhat well-trained
Abstractionist, cannot ever equal you in volume, shape or glory.
Let this adorable frog puff itself up as much as it pleases and do stay calm: it will
Never be a match for you. It will never be a match for you.
Old Ocean, Your Waters Are Bitter. They have the very same taste as the bile which
Criticism secretes upon the fine arts, the sciences, the wisdom, the knowledge that
Is the solitary confinement for the lone wanderers, pariahs to the masses, outcasts,
Unrealised redeemers and dreamers, those pitiful souls, wretched bums that strayed
Too far in the eyes of the voice of normalcy.
The great universal human family is a utopia worthy of the most paltry logic. Besides,
From the spectacle of your fecund breasts emerges the notion of ingratitude, for one
Thinks immediately of those innumerable parents ungrateful enough towards the
Creator to abandon the fruit of their sorry unions.
Mankind must certainly feel its imperfections strongly indeed, devastatingly even -
For it is painfully obvious that, at least, threequarters of them have their roots in the
Soil of its own responsibility.
And below it all thrones that observant patriarch, contemporary of the first epochs
Of our suspended globe, smiling with pity when present at the tribal factionism
Choosing his formidable belly as their pathetic playground.
I see a thousand leviathans sprung from human hands. Those cataclysmic orders
Pierced by shrieks of the wounded and cannon blasts - such a grand aural hell purposely
Made to annihilate but a mere instant.
To be swallowed by this formidable maw, presenting a spectacle that I so dearly adore.
As they all followed deep into the last thing they saw - that global receptacle
That one day will come ashore."
Writer: Dennis Christofer Ruf
Copyright: Lyrics © Royalty Solutions Corp
Copyright: Lyrics © Royalty Solutions Corp