As the moon comes around again,
I’ve found a whisper of a dream,
a sound that echoes softly
like the ticking of a clock.
As the people make their noise again,
I’ve found a memory of grace
in a place that falls around you
like the weaving of a loom.
In the spaces that surround the strokes of silence in the air,
I’ve found a song for someone who was looking for a prayer.
Doesn’t matter how the light may bend,
’cause there isn’t a prison
large enough to hold the world.
And all the wishes that you send,
you know there isn’t a prism
large enough to hold the girl.
In the spaces that surround the strokes of silence in the air,
I’ve found a song for someone who was looking for a prayer.