As hours move to minutes
And minutes take longer to break
I will be desperately awaiting
But my tongue won't fall apart
And we've been sitting here for hours
All alone and in the dark
So let me think of to word it
Is it too soon to say 'perfect'?
If I could find another thirty minutes somewhere
I'm sure everything would find me
All that's left is just to sing
And I'll be here by the ocean
Just waiting for proof that there's sunsets and silhouette dreams
All my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes
And every waves drags me to sea
I could stand here for hours
Just to ask God the question, "Is everyone here make-believe?"
With a tear in His voice, He said, "Son, that's the question."
Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?
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