Listen
Spoken version
A recorded reading of “The Fish Who Forgot How to Swim”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Once, I swam with ease, through rolling tides, through coral trees. The water knew, the current spoke— but now, the ocean is a joke. I used to move, I used to glide, no need to think, no need to try. But now my tail just drags behind, as if I lost the reasons why. The schools still spin, the waves still crash, the moon still tugs, the gulls still laugh. But here I float, my fins undone— adrift between the tide and sun. Did I lose the way, or did the way lose me? Did the ocean change, or did I just freeze? Do I float, or do I fall? Do I move, or not at all? Am I lost, or am I free? If I don’t swim, then what am I supposed to be? I watch the others twist and weave, I try to join, I try to breathe. But something’s off, my tail won’t move— as if the ocean changed its rules. The current calls, the reef still glows, but I remain where nothing flows. No push, no pull, no sense, no sound— just sinking slow without the ground. Maybe I was never meant to swim. Maybe I just moved because I could. Maybe all the tides that pulled me in, never really understood. Do I float, or do I fall? Do I move, or not at all? Am I lost, or am I free? If I don’t swim, then what am I supposed to be? "Once, I swam with ease…"
Instructional lyrics
[Intro: A slow, liquid-like bassline undulates, rippling like waves. A glockenspiel plinks out an off-kilter melody. The vocals enter—soft, hypnotic, like a distant voice bubbling up from underwater.] Once, I swam with ease, through rolling tides, through coral trees. The water knew, the current spoke— but now, the ocean is a joke. [Verse 1: The bass deepens, the groove kicks in—gentle, drifting, but with an uneasy undercurrent. The guitars bend and wobble, like light refracting through water.] I used to move, I used to glide, no need to think, no need to try. But now my tail just drags behind, as if I lost the reasons why. The schools still spin, the waves still crash, the moon still tugs, the gulls still laugh. But here I float, my fins undone— adrift between the tide and sun. [Pre-Chorus: The rhythm falters, backing vocals swirl in eerie harmonies—like a siren’s call.] Did I lose the way, or did the way lose me? Did the ocean change, or did I just freeze? [Chorus: Grand, sweeping, but strangely weightless—layered harmonies drift in and out, as if barely anchored to the melody.] Do I float, or do I fall? Do I move, or not at all? Am I lost, or am I free? If I don’t swim, then what am I supposed to be? [Instrumental Break: A dreamy, psychedelic interlude—warped synths bubbling like air pockets, the bass bending like waves rolling backward.] [Verse 2: The rhythm returns, slightly more fragmented—like the fish is struggling to keep up.] I watch the others twist and weave, I try to join, I try to breathe. But something’s off, my tail won’t move— as if the ocean changed its rules. The current calls, the reef still glows, but I remain where nothing flows. No push, no pull, no sense, no sound— just sinking slow without the ground. [Bridge: The instruments fade, just a soft, lonely whistle in the background. The vocals come in, whispered, rhythmic, like a riddle unraveling.] Maybe I was never meant to swim. Maybe I just moved because I could. Maybe all the tides that pulled me in, never really understood. [Final Chorus: The same melody, but now fragmented—some voices stretching, others cutting off abruptly, as if dissolving into the sea.] Do I float, or do I fall? Do I move, or not at all? Am I lost, or am I free? If I don’t swim, then what am I supposed to be? [Outro: The instruments fade into an eerie, endless reverb—like water swallowing the sound whole. A final, distant echo of the first line:] "Once, I swam with ease…"
Song info
Indie art-rock w/ playful yet eerie vibes. Offbeat groove, surreal spoken-word moments, bouncy bass, warped synths, theatrical harmonies. Psychedelic yet absurd, like a dream unraveling.
No published comments yet.