| If I stand on this stone
|
| At the edge of the sea
|
| And I raise up these hands
|
| Will you breathe into me
|
| Will you speak with my tongue
|
| Will you sing down through us
|
| Will your hands stir the sea
|
| Will you dream that we breathe
|
| If your voice is the love
|
| That was made by no one
|
| And our fingers can touch
|
| Where your songs
|
| They come from
|
| And we walk through this fire
|
| And your love kills our thirst
|
| And the sun burns your words
|
| On the face of this earth
|
| Will you sing down through us
|
| Will you speak with our tongue
|
| Will your seed become seed
|
| Will you dream that we breathe
|
| To steal the sun
|
| I’ll feel the light
|
| Or touch your hand
|
| Or take our sight
|
| To sing inside
|
| Your burning lung
|
| The songs that clothe
|
| Your naked son
|
| To feel the sea
|
| Or drink the air
|
| Or breathe the word
|
| That lies nowhere
|
| To feel the sun
|
| Or taste the light
|
| Or touch your hand
|
| Or steal your sight
|
| This is not here
|
| This is not now
|
| Will you dream that we breathe |