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The furrowed bed of sand worries again |
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As it had before, waves left the land |
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For the falling tide leaves the child weeping alone, |
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He's letting go of the anchor and all the lines... waiting for the fingers of the grey wave or his mother's hand to roll over him with endless water...10,000 bridges |
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Show me father. |
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Now I'm older, now much older |
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And this wave can take me out to sea |
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I feel the pull beneath my feet |
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But I can see her, she is calling |
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I can feel her there... |
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I can feel her there waiting for the fingers of the grey wave or his mother's hand to roll over him with endless water...10,000 bridges |
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Show me father. |
