When they come,
We'll all be ? again
Under the sea, where we belong
And if there's ever anything certain,
They'll be arriving and ?
When they come,
We'll make sad holes (?)
And wet cement, round and around
And left behind, we'll ? these little clubs
And we will make our mothers love(?)
We all run, and there are footprints
Under the water, we've been down there.
It's obvious that we're losing battles
With every breath of human air.