Take it to the moon,
The way the ocean gleams and the way I cry,
Oh how the tears are truthful,
They speak my mind.
Deep down by the ocean shore there lays what was once a shell,
Now simply the water that it once emerged from,
Little else but shattered rock and the remnants of a cold past.
I don't believe in the rights of men among soldiers,
Yet I feel the ocean's tide may wipe away my sins,
And to me that is beautiful.
To WHAT corner shall I turn,
To what floor may I stand,
And before which wall will I break down.
For the hammer of my youth is all but depleted,
And I wait before the gleaming ocean tide,
I can't stand the sun.
Come back to me,
To a world of lesser known,
And be right with the apples of my past,
Taking with me the oceans.
Gift to me your evil,
That I may repent and build,
I fear the clouds offer little guidance.
Gleaming in the bashful sun,
Dying in the night.
Orginally Written on Oct 27th 2016