The wind is blowing
the sail is tearing
Your boat is rocking
in the sixth sea a storm is raging
but your captain is young
soon you'll be home and dry
The sky is cloudless
a vulture is scanning
a future scorched
in the third season your crop is wilting
but your rainmaker is young
soon you'll be home with grain
The isle is lone, the bell tolls
the choir is still
in the eleventh hour your hope is dying
but your bride is young
soon you'll be home wed
so the world again cries for the vain and the naive
for no angel in heaven, falling or fallen
can save a heart in a child's arms
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