| As he stood upon the watch deck
|
| Looking out onto the sea
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| It would offer no solutions
|
| Only silent company
|
| So he took hold of the reasons
|
| As he tried to understand
|
| But they offered just confusion
|
| As they bled into his hands
|
| Dear God
|
| Couldn’t you decide
|
| What should happen to a man’s assassin
|
| Dear God
|
| Is it suicide
|
| I have never been a man of passions
|
| I believe what the prophets said
|
| That the oceans hold their dead
|
| But at night when the waves are near
|
| They whisper
|
| And I hear
|
| There are wounds that bleed inside us There are wounds we never see
|
| They are part of our refinements
|
| That allow a man to be There are wounds that bleed in silence
|
| With aristocratic grace
|
| There are tears we keep beside them
|
| Never seen upon a face
|
| Dear God
|
| Do you think it’s wise
|
| To remember everything that’s ever happened
|
| Dear God
|
| Could we compromise
|
| Or must the shadows of this night be everlasting
|
| I believe what the prophets said
|
| That the oceans hold their dead
|
| As I contemplate this stand
|
| What I do Is who I am
|
| I believe what the prophets said
|
| That the oceans hold their dead
|
| But at night when the waves are near
|
| They whisper
|
| And I hear
|
| Don’t see the storms are forming
|
| Don’t see or heed the warning
|
| Don’t hear the sound of tyrants
|
| Surrounded by the silence
|
| Columbus and Magellan and De Gama
|
| Sailed upon an ocean
|
| In a world of ignorance
|
| With thoughts so primitive
|
| That men were killed
|
| With no more will
|
| Than that they simply had the notion
|
| But in this world of heartless men
|
| This thing they never did
|
| Don’t hear it Don’t hear it Don’t hear it Don’t hear it Got to keep it underground
|
| Pretend you never heard a sound
|
| If they find it kill it blind it If they find it kill it blind it Lord tell me what is to be
|
| Lord tell me what is to be
|
| They whisper and I hear |