मूल बोल
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Boiling in a sea with five
Thousand teeth surrounding me
A spear from the depths soars through
The tide like a dying breed of reptiles
The spear pierces the serpent like
A predator with little effort
Arms spring fourth, arms in numbers
Not yet defined by mankind
The art of star born misery
Is one of a kind
Eye to eye, a left over breath
Would be a disaster
The beast roars, letting loose
A sonic wave of terror
