Sharks
Sharks don't attack the Irish,
It's mostly Australians.
There's nothing accomplished
By these splashing citizens.
From the Moon down to the surface
Of the Mariana's Trench.
I won't send you in a cab when
I can take you there myself and steal a look
Over your shoulder at
The distant lights of your firmament.
When the sharks finished the Irish
And those people from Berlin.
We left our look of the landed
With one of rescue's imminent.
From the Moon down to the surface
Of the Mariana's Trench.
I won't send you in a cab when
I can take you there myself and steal a look
Over your shoulder at
The chandeliers of your firmament.
It's your firmament, baby.
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