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I dream of the ocean and the beautiful skies rolling out to sea |
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I dream of the ocean and the rip of the tide west of Finnistair |
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The weight of the water pouring down, holding on to me |
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I dream of the ocean, rising, rising |
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I dream of the ocean - through the night the ghosts are sailing still |
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The James Caird steering east by north-east through the wild Atlantic swell |
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The men lie soaked and cold beneath the sail on a bed of ballast stone |
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They hear the boss cry out - I can see them now, the snow-capped peaks of land |
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But it was the ocean, rising, rising |
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A forty foot wall of water crashing down |
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They held their breath and prayed to God in the hour of death |
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To save them |
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From the ocean, rising, rising |
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I dream of the ocean, rising, rising |
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And so the years they flow and journey's end |
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The old crew sailed south again |
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And they buried the boss by the melting snow |
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In the summer winds on the island |
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And now the ice it cracks and falls away, driven in the storms |
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And I'll be there - where the sky touches the sea |
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At the edge of the ocean where the beautiful world fades into the grey |
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I dream of the ocean, rising, rising |
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I dream of the ocean, rising, rising |
