Arcane-Gel - Of Sirens and Lycans

She's a lady of the sea in an ocean of his better days
Under her blue bemused by his weather change
Tether frayed anchors, keeps him at bay
Whenever she waves it leads him a stray
Sweeps and he sways that wave is tidal
A mermaid service away from his bridle
Lycan, lies can
Lie candid in the eyes of this blind man
She's a siren, that's how he paints guilt
Inhaling the life from her tainted gills
He paints her stills, confined to his picket fence
Powerless to join, the ranks of the wicker men
Feeling spent, embark so steadfast
Sea's always bluer from the yards of dead grass
Of this lycanthrope
She shows a little leg but hides her throat, oh
She will, board your ship
(He knows that she will)
Let the water in
(She knows that he will)
Claw your skin
It's not love, but they'll both fall in
He's the prince of own land, own shores, slow plan
A grown man feels more at home as a nomad
So sad to view what he sails farther from
Every time the breeze frees that harpy's song
Harness that harpoon catch him a fairy-tale
To transfigure to hair and tails
To brush against her burly scales
Crushing out unworldly wails
a murderous tail
For the wish that resides in a murky well
Under the full moon, blood runs red
But the real victim's home alone in their double bed
He awakes half the man
Drained, ashamed, with heart in hand
Darker the sands that harbour his thrill
Washing off the blood from last night's kill
She will, board your ship
(He knows that she will)
Let the water in
(She knows that he will)
Claw your skin
It's not love, but they'll both fall in
Oh Lorelei... Your laurels lie on empty promises
That build kin SHIPS that resemble sarcophagus
Searching for Lochness, danger exhilarates
Blindly believes he'll be safe in that fishy grave
Prays to be prey, forming of fetishes
A ship wrecked mind he walks towards her precipice
Her webs twist, a wretched mess hall
Forlorn oarsman, sync to that vessel
She sings for a heckle, never sought love
Only feels alive when those fangs draw blood
A prank called lust, a dance named death
When the wounds run dry, they'll be no hearts left
After the sex and the blood that's spilt
He comes to, butt for the guilt
So he smothers those gills, a boast of his piety
Returns to his rock, to die slow and silently

Written by:
Antony Castiello

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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