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Pacific

de Sleeping At Last

If I could rearrange my words
I'd say what I mean
If I could learn to count the cards
I'd risk everything
Imagine how brave I'd be
If I knew I'd be safe
If I could only know the end
I'd be a prodigy of faith

If I had a treasure map, oh the answers I'd find
I'd dust off the artifacts 'til I made 'em all shine

Everything I know is borrowed, broken or blind
And what I've seen of beautiful feels merely implied
Is it the treatment of symptoms or a touch of divine?
I guess the truth is that the truth is of complex design
How I ache to know

God knows that I know we're little boats in the great big sea
Setting sail after sail in the hopes of finding a breeze

Every compass I have followed I've trusted and denied
So it goes with an ever-changing definition of right
Is it the treatment of symptoms or a touch of divine?
I guess the truth is that the truth is of complex design

If ignorance is bliss, then I guess I'm in heaven
But this hesitant kiss sends me back to the grasp of the sea
Setting sail after sail in the hopes of finding a breeze

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