It will rise up from below us
From the gutters, it creeps into our lives.
It could drive the thought of us,
Of our families, erase them from our minds.
Well, maybe my fear of the ocean will subside
When I become the energy in the tide or the moon's light
As it creeps it's way to your bedside.
When dreaming of homes all dried up and gone
The shoe prints on the floor,
The decaying of the once good wood
Now buried in our minds
My throat's cracked and beaten, my back's whipped and torn and the glasses you once wore won't have a use anymore. Where do we go? What will we eat? The only promise I can keep is the one where I say I'll meet you again, reborn from the sand. The glasses you once wore don't have a use anymore.