الكلمات الأصلية
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Like last clasped arms
These questions, nowhere
Two hearts filled with sand
You climb through how
Many windows
Grasping with busy hands
Eyes turning gray
A field of timbre
Much more to say
Do you remember
You're a living well
I've fallen deeply
Your gentle hell
I'm drowning sleeping
There was a time
Out of proportion
When we were living well
And I can't ask
For your vision
Just wait for you to tell
And the earth
It waves for you
I'll try to ride the swell
Eyes turning gray
A field of timbre
Much more to say
Do you remember
You're a living well
I've fallen deeply
Your gentle hell
I'm drowning sleeping
