| The day has left nothing of its quiet dissipation,
|
| just a bit of starry language lifting heavy eyes.
|
| The plague of the vague cold-hearted speculation,
|
| where haunted dreams of peaceful things of Eden rise.
|
| Move your hand across the void of my heart
|
| Move your hand across the void of my soul
|
| Move your hand across this land of dry bones
|
| Make an ocean
|
| Make an ocean
|
| Make an ocean
|
| The answers lay silent against all expectation,
|
| just a bit of starry language and lingering lies.
|
| The ghost and the host sifting through desolation,
|
| where haunted dreams of peaceful things of Eden rise.
|
| Move your hand across the void of my heart
|
| Move your hand across the void of my soul
|
| Move your hand, I’m just a bag of dry bones
|
| Make an ocean
|
| Make an ocean
|
| Make an ocean
|
| Bright flame of hope tremblin' like a sword,
|
| in the hand of a man who does not want war.
|
| Move your hand across the void of my heart
|
| Move your hand across the void of my soul
|
| Move your hand across the darkness of my mind,
|
| Move your hand, oh, and let there be light |
| Move your hand across the void in my soul
|
| Make an ocean
|
| Make an ocean
|
| Make an ocean
|
| Oh, make an ocean
|
| Make an ocean
|
| Make an ocean |