The Fisherman

This is his life. This is his death. And he would embrace it happily only if it happens here.

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1. .

Down by the lake 

Where the fisherman hides

On his broken boat

He merrily rides.

 

Everything's dead around him

Everything dismal surround him

Under the shadows of the trees

He enjoys the suffocating breeze.

 

And then the lake 

Brims up to his feet

Under the water

The fisherman tries to breathe.

 

In the empty lake

The fishes are buried 

Deep below the crumbled floor

He knows it's hell's door

But nothing stops him, he still adheres,

Only to this lake, only here.

 

Hoping 

Though the fishes were cremated 

Instead of being buried

Though their fate was coal

He could catch up (with) their soul. 

 

The eyes and the ears

Of the dead in the sea

Float up to the surface

Exposing more of their sins

But the fisherman doesn't agree.

 

He knows he'll die

In the waters, he'll grease,

But when he does,

He'll die in peace. 

 

So let the water

Enter this empty boat,

Let it brim,

Don't let it float.

 

One day,

One day he had to drown

Only in this lake, he wants to, he wishes,

One day,

He'd have to be one of those fishes. 

 

And then the lake

Brims up to his feet

Under the water,

The fisherman tries to breathe. 

 

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