| What have you seen?
|
| What have you felt?
|
| Your lips are closed, the curtain’s shut
|
| All that we can see is on your sleeve
|
| All that we can see is on your sleeve
|
| I know from time to time
|
| That hope seems but a foreign land
|
| A distance that we cannot reach
|
| A language we cannot speak
|
| Your life is hidden in your skin
|
| Though not entirely so
|
| Some things can’t be kept
|
| And through all the things we’ll find out
|
| We will hold on tighter to the surface life
|
| I know from time to time
|
| That hope seems but a forgein land
|
| A distance that we cannot reach
|
| A language we cannot speak
|
| In your words the movement of your eyes
|
| The expressions on your face
|
| The rush of your walking
|
| And through all the things we’ll find out
|
| We will hold on tighter to the surface life
|
| With our closed fists we will feel like
|
| We’ve suceeded again
|
| What have you seen?
|
| What have you felt?
|
| Your lips are closed, the curtain’s shut
|
| All that we can see is on your sleeve
|
| All that you can see is on my sleeve
|
| I know from time to time
|
| Hope seems but a forgein land
|
| A distance what we cannot reach
|
| A language we cannot speak |