55 Fathoms from Failure (Buried at the Bottom of the Solomon Sea)

Under the thermal layer
55 fathoms from failure
From the lips of the drunken wailer
To the ears of ships dead sailor
Who is this he, the I who’s turned into we
He be the name, of intense energy
From the quantum oscillator
This Greater power is achieved
The evidence observed
Yet it’s still not believed
Andy rolls up his sleeves
Droplets fall from the leaves
And the branches above
Lovely petrified trees
In water you freeze, my friend
In water you die
That’s just the way of the world
Was his ghastly reply
Who is this he, the I who’s turned into we
Scrimshaw the name, of intense energy
Scrimshaw picks the game
If you choose to play along
A cipher is embedded
Somewhere deep in the song
The only catch is it’s death
If your answer is wrong…
Left sightless and deaf
With no the soul to prolong
Marimba, a gong and the dead timpani
Buried at the bottom of the Solomon sea
Cross dimensional slayer
The antique record player
Sounds the semitones of death
Through the chlorinated vapor