In an ocean of constant noise,
But somehow our ears were trained
To recognize when we hear you call our name.
Every movement was memorized,
The schools of fish were born.
Their patterns and plans align,
All in a glorious effort to survive.
There is no language for what we've seen,
Only the sweetness that bends us to our knees,
And all of these fumbling words
To explain what it means,
But out hearts were buried deep in the sand.
Like the lid of a music box.
It shivers with foreign sound,
As long as the gears stay wound
The whales will sing their song
All in a glorious effort to be strong.
There's no need to be afraid,
Overwhelming love cascades.
The melody will rise and swell
As it finds its way inside the shell.
We must watch what we say.
There is no language for what we've seen,
Only the sweetness that bends us to our knees,
And all of these fumbling words
To explain what it means,
But our hearts were buried deep in the sand. More from Sleeping At Last