Trouble is, 
We go walking in the rain
Protected by our plastic parasols. 

From the mists
To the waves, 
We don't think we ever will implode again, 
The mighty leaden rollers rushing in to kill us all. 

But the ships are swiftly sinking, 
And the submarine in which I am
Sequestering myself
Is failing to produce a proper answer. 
I'm thinking to myself, 
I'm telling me that deftly I'll be
Giving my advice to all the world, that
The cells we're in are splitting
So it's looking like
It's likely that it's cancer. 

You looked sweet
Standing there, 
Smiling at me sleepily
Suspiciously like someone who is dead. 

Shake the sheets, 
Let 'em air, 
We'll go down in history
Conspicuously grinning like the cat who's in the story life we've led. 

And the ships are softly sighing
As the sedimental seafloor says
A prayer to bring them home
And sings a sullen cradle song of death. 
I'm thinking to myself, 
I'm telling me that certainly we
Haven't got the heart to tell the world that
The tumors are malignant, 
So the time is coming
When we'll breathe our last breath. 

From the start, 
Where was I?
I was not the kind of guy
To look a fading flower in the eye. 

Cross your heart, 
Hope to die, 
Hope to soon be sailing smoothly heaven-high, 
Surrounded by the seabirds as they skim the starless sky.