Endless sea-foam ribbons twist along the shore left by waves,
waves recalled into the sea.  Many waves, their numbers never to be known.
With a drunkard’s walk I trace their path at the water’s edge.
Though the path I trod leads nowhere, it still gives me direction.
My body follows my eyes, my eyes follow the foam, the endless twisting foam.

Endless sporadic emotions twist within my mind left by pain,
pains long ago endured.  My pains!  Too many to count, these pains that I have known.
With a drunkard’s folly I bring them back from my soul’s darker edge.
Though to do so helps nothing, it still gives me direction.
My mind follows my soul, my soul follows the emotions, my endless twisting emotions.

Sea-foam is the evidence of waves that once washed upon the shore.
The proof they did exist.  What more could you ask of a wave?  Nothing.
Emotions are the evidence that my soul is still there within me.
The proof it does exist.  What more dare I ask of my soul?  Nothing at all.
I do not follow the wave, nor do I the pain, sea-foam and emotions are enough for me.