i’m a boat without an oar set adrift on a sea of unforgiving crests.
Battered and bruised; searching for land.
Past the point of no return, i’m sailing where maps can never whisper their secrets.
Is this a place even Your hands can’t reach?
How far is too far away to feel Your touch?
Sometime i swear right here is too far from where You are.
Others i can’t get away fast enough.
Do i turn back?
Can i turn back now?
Or do i follow this down?
If by chance i see heaven on the other side,
i’m sure the trail will be littered with a thousand floating mariners lost at sea.
And if i can venture forward through an ocean of corpses,
How do i keep from joining their sad song?
Can we still run from death while sleeping in coffins?
i’m a dirge without a voice, hanging on the lips of a mute.
