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As he stood upon the watch deck looking out onto the sea
It would offer no solutions, only silent company
So he took hold of the reasons as he tried to understand
But they offered just confusion as they bled into his hands

Dear God, couldn't you decide?
What should happen to a man's assassins?
Dear God, is it suicide?
I have never been a man of passions

I believe what the prophets said
That the oceans hold their dead
But at night when the waves are near
They whisper and I... hear

There are wounds that bleed inside us, there are wounds we never see
They are part of our refinements that allow a man to be
There are wounds that bleed in silence with aristocratic grace
There are tears we keep beside them, never seen upon a face

Dear God, do you think it's wise
To remember everything that's ever happened?
Dear God, could we compromise
Or must the shadows of this night be everlasting?

I believe what the prophets said
That the oceans hold their dead
As I contemplate this stand
What I do, is who I... am

I believe what the prophets said
That the oceans hold their dead
But at night when the waves are near
They whisper and I hear... yeah

Don't see the storms are forming
Don't see or heed the warning
Don't hear the sound of tyrants
Surrounded by the silence...

Columbus and Magellan and de Gama
Sailed upon the ocean
In a world of ignorance
With thoughts so primitive
That men were killed...

With no more will
Than that they simply had the notion
But in this world of heartless men
This thing they never did...

Don't hear it...

Got to keep it underground
Pretend you never heard a sound...

If they find it - kill it, blind it...

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