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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