Hear the Southern wind
Speak a language of gusts
And the whitest sands
They all breathe like dust
In the darkest nights
We see the brightest stars
While we’re the farthest away
From any passing cars
And thoughts about the ocean’s depth
And when we reach our ends
To untold stories of those who wept
Or failed to make amends
The crashing waves
Bring an air of salt
And a solitude
Where we only find fault
In the haunting sounds
Of the tide rushing in
To cleanse the shore of us
And to pull us within
And thoughts about the ocean’s depth
And when we reach our ends
To untold stories of those who wept
Or failed to make amends
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