I first saw it beneath the setting sun
A string of gold against the purple clouds
It stood before the edge of the divide
Between the raging sea and the rolling clouds

I dove at the sight of Hope
Washing my hair with salty sand
There is the beacon beyond turbid seas
Haven to repose and a harbor to dock

The waves came, crashing, crashing
It grayed the world with soaring height
It became my eyes and all I see
And when I got back on top

The lighthouse was gone
Buried beneath the dome of the clouds
As the sea and the sky embraced
So passes my Hope