loves it

upon my arival, i either learn to swim or drown.
As i struggle for air, i see only water, and i reach for anything as a cry for help.
I feel my body growing weak, slipping away
It occurs to me, that my cries are worthless
Acknowleding death,I feel my body growing weak, slipping away,
and i begin to sing praises to the one
as I sink to my salty grave, I drown


Let it be a sweet sweet sound