| My god is, the human spirit
|
| My church is, the gentle earth
|
| My hymns are, the songs of the people
|
| My prayers are, our drunken words
|
| The things that I never asked you
|
| They keep me up at night
|
| The things that I never told you
|
| They never sounded right
|
| But I’ll still be waiting
|
| Rolled like a bottle on your shore
|
| Shape eroding
|
| Worn by the waves that we rode before
|
| If ever, your faith is shaken
|
| Turn my way, I’ll still be here
|
| 'Cause now, the seasons are changing
|
| I feel it in my bones
|
| And nothing looks the same in
|
| The place that was our home
|
| But I’ll still be waiting
|
| Rolled like a bottle on your shore
|
| Shape eroding
|
| Worn by the waves that we rode before
|
| And I’ll still be waiting
|
| Rolled like a bottle on your shore
|
| Shape eroding
|
| Worn by the waves, baby, if your
|
| Dreams are breaking
|
| Crushed by the tide and the cold stones
|
| I’ll be waiting
|
| Don’t be afraid, 'cause you’re almost home
|
| These brittle crumbling things will pass
|
| Dreams, they spin like broken glass
|
| Like bottles breaking on a stony shore
|
| I’ll still be sitting here at your door
|
| These brittle crumbling things will pass
|
| Dreams, they spin like broken glass
|
| Like bottles breaking on a stony shore
|
| I’ll still be sitting here at your door |