There's a white wave that washes over me,
And it colours my dreams anew;
It drags my ambitions away with the undertow
And all that I'm left with is you.

You cling to my shipwreck of a body,
And your weight it drags me under;
You anchor yourself to my thoughts
And together we sink asunder.

I panic and think, hopelessly,
That I should have foreseen such stormy weather;
The viscosity of the ocean is suffocating –
Cold, and the blackest black ever.

Your desperation to live tears me apart
And before long we're a sunken ship;
We gather dust at the bottom of the ocean,
Still joined at the mouth and hip.

It takes a moment for me to realise
The advantages of having drowned;
The seabed is deadly silent –
There's no whisper, no words, no sound.

The water is clear, though the blackness lingers,
And I can see everything clear as day.
I examine the marks you left on my heart
And wish your unhappiness away.

At the bottom of the ocean, I understand
Why we had to sink, not swim;
I understand what made you cling to me
And fill my ship with tears to the brim.

One day a current will come along
And sweep us from this ocean floor;
We will be carried weightless through the water
And be washed up on some foreign shore.

And there on the beach we will try
To piece ourselves back together;
We will dry ourselves out in the sun
And enjoy the summer weather.

We will mend our ship, our once watertight vessel,
And make it almost watertight once more:
But I'll never remove the marks on my heart
That you scratched there on the ocean floor.

And when we are sailing again, you will see
The marks on everyone else's heart;
We will understand everyone else's sorrows
And that our trip to the seabed was only the start.

I suppose it's easy to forget in the midst of the storm,
When your soul and your will is bled raw,
That we all end up as shipwrecks,
And all shipwrecks end up at the shore.