[ Featuring
Vale ]
In winter's chilling hold
We recall sweet days of old
The warmth of light on skin
Grass waving in the wind
The sound of a nearby creak:
Our lifeblood's timeless creep
Awakens dreams inside the meek
Of understanding that we still seek
O the flowing to and fro
Motion masks the drifting soul
Unable to find anything that can spark a fire us
We drift 'til the end of time
And yet so do I get lost as pulled downstream
Swept with all to sea as the ocean calls to me
So loud and boisterously I can't hear dear reality
So sweet and low
The very whisper of God
O the flowing to and fro
Motion masks the drifting soul
Unable to find anything that can spark a fire us
By hand or will or word
We dream of the end of time
Unable to find anything that can spark a fire us
Utterly drenched in our own wills
In hand and will and word we dream
