| If you listen just right, you can almost hear it.
|
| The symphony of secrecy, love and fear.
|
| (search for love, but finding fear.)
|
| Like a moth to a flame, we become helpless
|
| To the beautiful ghosts
|
| That true love sheds.
|
| We are all running our very own races,
|
| Set out upon the most dangerous of places.
|
| And through it all, we were left
|
| With a void in our chests,
|
| We’re aching to fill.
|
| The doves come
|
| To gather our every need,
|
| They lift them up to Heaven
|
| Through the mouths from which we speak.
|
| God, will you help us understand the meaning of it all?
|
| Will you send your Angels down to us, at our every call?
|
| Sometimes it seems the world is passing us Faster than my eyes can adjust.
|
| I can’t decide
|
| If I’m living or I’m dying.
|
| So I test your love and I test your love, I test your love.
|
| The doves come
|
| To gather our every need,
|
| They lift them up to Heaven
|
| Through us now…
|
| The doves come
|
| To gather our every need,
|
| They lift them up to Heaven
|
| Through the mouths from which we speak.
|
| Like a moth to a flame, we become helpless
|
| To the beautiful ghosts
|
| That true love sheds |