(Ooooh)

(Brassjaw, Brassjaw!)

At Neptune’s Rise,

By rusted rail,

Last Sunday dusk,

Through leaking shale.

The boardwalk groaned,

The bathers gleamed,

The sky was glass,

The sea half-dreamed.

(Brassjaw! Brassjaw!)

(Built for war — and law!)

(Teeth like drills,)

(And morals raw!)

It rose from vents,

With gears that wept.

A drill for jaws.

Its rage — well kept.

Splicer kids

Were feeding fish.

Now they run —

It snaps the dish.

(“Electro Bolt!”)

(“Too late, my dear…)

(“No more Eve — Just gory smear.”)

Fontaine’s lads

Just fled the pier.

A girl with wings

Shook off her fear.

“It’s Atlas’ trick!”

They cried in vain,

But even gods

Can’t stop a chain.

(Brassjaw! Brassjaw!)

(From Hephaestus deep!)

(Woke too soon — Now none shall sleep!)

McGee emerged

In bloodstained boots.

He fired with grace,

Then bowed in suits.

The harpoon soared

Through art and bile.

It hit — the shark

And

It exploded in style!

The sand is red.

The sky is steam.

A mask lies cracked

Beside ice cream.

Brassjaw’s gone —

but he was grand…

Another ghost

of Rapture’s sand.