We are the doe-eyed receivers of this world of woe so
We stow away in the guttural sounds of gnawing.
Oceans pour weight onto waiting sand,
Beams of glaring sun cut into cavernous land,
And you and I feel the gripping haunt of mountains and climb to the barren top.
And you and I feel the gripping haunt of mountains and climb to the barren top.
All is punishment when all is the aftermath of ruinous love.
But say of my heart that it is yearning and
Say you're only going to stray,
I'll say of the snow it is shining as it suffocates, decay
Is the only sure sign of the cycle,
A promise that hearts still beat.
Say of my soul it knows magic as day becomes day becomes day,
And the sky in all its unknowing is either an obstacle or a display
But the beauty of it is that it is blue.
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