Testo di Grey-Colored Glasses

There's a storm coming From way down south It taunts and swells and picks things up And washes them away Dragging up the eastern seas for centuries This dark sea I grew up on From the depths of our young souls To the beaches down at Montauk There's a storm coming From way down south It taunts and swells and picks things up And washes them away Lying in wait We've been told for a century It's coming to the place that I started From the depths of our young souls To the beaches down at Montauk Retreat and return Let the sea swallow us whole The sentiment will swell in time The riptide Our bodies pressed against the ocean floor Our bodies pressed against the ocean floor No man decides the places we come from It's love or hate No sense of grace Levees break and let us wash away