Genessaret (Going Out Over 30,000 Fathoms of Water) Lyrics

Song	Genessaret (Going Out Over 30,000 Fathoms of Water)
Artist	Anathallo
Album	Floating World
Download	Image LRC TXT

	作曲 : Bracken, Dost, Joynt, Sandberg ...
	We looked hard;
	I stood on the bottom.
	Calloused tiptoes,
	Splintering wood,
	Waterlogging.
	Break up, come back together.
	Genessaret.
	I want to skip like a stone from a stronger arm.
	Each one I throw is moving somewhere.
	Oh, let me go.
	I will go out, out, out, out
	Past these yellow ropes.
	I am not afraid.
	They sway there like
	The shredded ones hung
	From my parents' tree
	Where I pumped my legs
	And I broke into sweat.
	I never saw my face
	In the bird bath mirror,
	Red as blood
	And I was tired.
	For a minute short, there was a wonder.
	A sense after the momentary weird blur,
	In the space of expectancy
	When you wake,
	When you open your eyes.
	When you expect to see the same thing that
	You've seen.
	First, the ceiling:
	Grey from great oak.
	Grey from great oak.
	He'd thrown his net over us. (Stringy hands, stained glass)
	And all his sounds, the same today.
	But my body changed.
	Something in the salty sheets
	Was pressing in on me.
	Stuck and stinging,
	I keep rolling.

	zuo qu : Bracken, Dost, Joynt, Sandberg ...
	We looked hard
	I stood on the bottom.
	Calloused tiptoes,
	Splintering wood,
	Waterlogging.
	Break up, come back together.
	Genessaret.
	I want to skip like a stone from a stronger arm.
	Each one I throw is moving somewhere.
	Oh, let me go.
	I will go out, out, out, out
	Past these yellow ropes.
	I am not afraid.
	They sway there like
	The shredded ones hung
	From my parents' tree
	Where I pumped my legs
	And I broke into sweat.
	I never saw my face
	In the bird bath mirror,
	Red as blood
	And I was tired.
	For a minute short, there was a wonder.
	A sense after the momentary weird blur,
	In the space of expectancy
	When you wake,
	When you open your eyes.
	When you expect to see the same thing that
	You' ve seen.
	First, the ceiling:
	Grey from great oak.
	Grey from great oak.
	He' d thrown his net over us. Stringy hands, stained glass
	And all his sounds, the same today.
	But my body changed.
	Something in the salty sheets
	Was pressing in on me.
	Stuck and stinging,
	I keep rolling.

	zuò qǔ : Bracken, Dost, Joynt, Sandberg ...
	We looked hard
	I stood on the bottom.
	Calloused tiptoes,
	Splintering wood,
	Waterlogging.
	Break up, come back together.
	Genessaret.
	I want to skip like a stone from a stronger arm.
	Each one I throw is moving somewhere.
	Oh, let me go.
	I will go out, out, out, out
	Past these yellow ropes.
	I am not afraid.
	They sway there like
	The shredded ones hung
	From my parents' tree
	Where I pumped my legs
	And I broke into sweat.
	I never saw my face
	In the bird bath mirror,
	Red as blood
	And I was tired.
	For a minute short, there was a wonder.
	A sense after the momentary weird blur,
	In the space of expectancy
	When you wake,
	When you open your eyes.
	When you expect to see the same thing that
	You' ve seen.
	First, the ceiling:
	Grey from great oak.
	Grey from great oak.
	He' d thrown his net over us. Stringy hands, stained glass
	And all his sounds, the same today.
	But my body changed.
	Something in the salty sheets
	Was pressing in on me.
	Stuck and stinging,
	I keep rolling.

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