There are many more of us
Scattered sails among the gusts
Coursing ‘cross these haunted tides
With a reason and a guess
Maybe ours is not of hope
Maybe our fates lead astray
For the spell has once been cast
and once it takes
We only gather ‘round the light and fire the hourglasses make
There are stills beneath our beds
Stoked by branches of our fallen family trees
There is comfort dressed in casket clothes
And a bottle embalms us as we go
Well there comes a time to raise
A flag we've managed for so long
That is hidden in the waves among the graves of mariners' children
Who mistook the ocean's way
There's a lighthouse by the bay
Where our ships and faiths are safe
And with every fading flash
Another wave has crashed
And every grain of sand is sifting through the hourglass
There are lines meant to cross
There are burdens meant to stand
There are curses that the follies of our great grandfathers and their wives
Have cast upon our lives