All manner of strange worms
Weave through this night
In a maddening, tussle and thrash

To the surface
With their various, schemes and scars
As the infamous passersby

All manner of wreckage
Declines in this muck
In a self-induced haze
Chattering, babbling, downward

And surely they are to blame
From the heave of our engines
In each warm and comforting escape