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lyrics

Stench pouring from the seabreeze, upon the beach a serpentine mass.
(It drifted overnight.)
Not quite an eel, not quite a squid, not quite a whale, yet very much the same.
So different that it repulses to view, alien to even name.
What is this thing?
Spanning half the beach, its rotting carcass pollutes the shallows.
No eyes, no mouth, no movement, no sound.

Sand is blood-soaked, air is stench-filled, and all is abnormally quiet.
The seagulls cower upon the peaks of the distant hills.
The massive thing -- too big to even climb -- is fully wreathed in limp tendrils.
And its skin, semi-translucent, reveals dimly glowing viscera.
The rotting thing is falling apart.
It's sail-sized fins are nearly gone, leaving a cartilage frame.

You notice its skin is undullating gently, as if a pressing from beneath.
The thing's skin moves more, to burst at the other end.
Pouring for from the rottting hole, a stream of human corpses.
They crawl towards you, gurgling your name.

They crawl towards you, gurgling your name.
Urging for you to become,
Become the same.

credits

from It Weighed Itself In Silver, released February 10, 2018

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