The Collection
The Listener
All of my life, I’ve been asking the same things
And I still don’t think I’m closer to an answer
I’d build an ark at the first sighting of rain
But the sky just stays the same, and I feel landlocked by our conversation

I can’t tell the difference between stars and lights that I’m to follow
They all glow

So set my sails toward westward gales
And pray that love don’t just blow one direction

500 times I’ve asked you if you’re still there
And I never hear replies, yet somehow I’m still doing fine
If I find land, will I know if it was planned, or if it’s all just happenstance?
And will it matter as long as there is ground around for my feet?
If I head south, will that be heresy?
No, I don’t think so

So cast my fears away from piers
And pray that love don’t just blow one direction

Listen to the river, now
Listen to the river

When I woke up, you were standing on the opposite bank
And I saw that you never needed to be saved
And I know, I know, I know
That I’ve seen the light go out in so many friend’s eyes
But the wind can’t take the spark that settled inside
And I know, I know, I know we’ll be alright