Motion in the Ocean

It seems that we are clams inside our shells

Side by side on rocks we feel the tide as the sea contracts and swells

Pearls grow from the pain inside we often know so well

So languageless, emotionless we must now find some way to tell the ocean not to worry

Ultimately all, predictably, is well

Oh fisherman, it seems you've lost your net

Furthermore, it seems you're sinking, do not waste time with regret

Most of the world is covered in that stuff which constitutes your sweat

With which your body's, for a long time now, been marginally wet

I would tell you but I'm not so good with words

Language makes a simple feeling seem oh so absurd

Anyway, my songs about contentment so far always end in verbs

Like "drive", or "run", or go to sleep, the damage has been done

Life's not made up of things that must be lost or won

But you can live that way if that's what you call fun

Oh karma chameleon

Are you in tune to the voice that makes that noise saying your work here is done?

And do you dream at night of thoughts inside you'll never tell no one

Unless you find some way to mask them in some sarcastic pun?

And oh, misguided secret angel on the run

What was so wrong with taking your wings off, a day of working done

In your dreams of hell, do you have endless chores or are you banished to boredom?

Now you can't decide if you believe in either one

You can't decide if you believe in either one

You'll not know until you've tried, and so you can't decide

You can't decide if you believe in either one