Prompt / Lyrics
[Spoken - close mic, dry, no reverb until the end] Brothers. Sisters. Salt-starved sinners. We had an ocean once. Before the corporations drank it. Before the pipelines sucked it dry and left us with this dust. [pause] I remember water. Cold on my feet. The smell of it. The taste. Now I taste blood. My own. Yours. Doesn't matter. [pause] They say the waves are gone. They say surf's down forever. But look closer. What's that rising on the horizon? Not water. Bodies. Stacked high. And when they fall— [Band explodes - shouted/sung] —THEY MAKE A CURL! THEY MAKE A BREAK! I'LL RIDE YOUR CORPSE TO THE DEEP RED WAKE! [Spoken - now with reverb, manic, faster] They took the ocean. So we became the ocean. Every Psycho a wave. Every axe a paddle. Every skull a buoy marking the reef of the guilty. [Building intensity] HANG TEN FOR SATAN! [10 seconds of chaotic surf punk - drums, fuzz guitar, screaming] [Abrupt silence. Then, whispered:] Amen.
Tags
Surf Rock, male, spoken word, · Key: D minor · Tempo: 120 BPM (steady, pulsing like a heartbeat)
Duration
1:13
Instrumental
No
Created
4/16/2026