I sing the song of sinking ships In a soft, sleeping sea.
A song of slow rises and falls, A song where refrains are only restraints-
Some say a tired ocean pulls everything apart, Others say it's finally all coming together.
In this song, the rhythms Are feet on these decks; Children run, and lovers dance
Hands that reach for each other and Into the air for notes make these cymbals ride, And when they are pulled back to their sides With nothing but ideas for tomorrow, Those hands make these cymbals crash.
And in this song, fingers on strings Are in search of a truth of some kind And we live in the light of the notes That we strike.
And in songs like this one, They all blend together, Seeking out others like themselves...
And in this song We find a way to follow all or none, To accept these ends or defy them - But those notes hammer on...
And when no one remembers where these Ships were built, Or knows whether they found home, Their legacy lives on in songs like this.
And when you sing this song, Those lovers will dance, And those truths will be found..
Those notes and cymbals, And oceans and fingers will rise up again,