I
Ascending the crest
Until winter lays eggs in our skin
The yellow dead
I can smell them on you
Salty like one of us
And pungent like graves
II
Caught in these mangroves
Brotherfucked by the taste of blood
We roam
Ascending the crest
Until winter lays eggs in our skin
The yellow dead
I can smell them on you
Salty like one of us
And pungent like graves
II
Caught in these mangroves
Brotherfucked by the taste of blood
We roam