What, I ask, comes after the flood?
Do we drift, or do we drown?
As ripples become waves, and
Threads become ropes
And we find ourselves ashore
Where we never were
Let me keep your silence
And you can keep my words
I've far too many beyond repair.
And I will watch the sun
Of your eyes changing colour
Brown at dusk, black at night
Rest against its white
Till I drown, in the ocean of hair
Where I sang in the cold
And the fog were my words
The night was blind to all
And the lights were dead
It was there, I found a safe place
In the arms of you.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
What, I ask, comes after the flood?
Do we drift, or do we drown?
As ripples become waves, and
Threads become ropes
And we find ourselves ashore
Where we never were
Let me keep your silence
And you can keep my words
I've far too many beyond repair.
And I will watch the sun
Of your eyes changing colour
Brown at dusk, black at night
Rest against its white
Till I drown, in the ocean of hair
Where I sang in the cold
And the fog were my words
The night was blind to all
And the lights were dead
It was there, I found a safe place
In the arms of you.
