Wonder if the birds
wonder if the birds
sometimes feel tired
of their wings.
Everything gets worn,
I don’t believe it though,
it can’t be,
not to me.

And you’ll find me there
where reality’s been shaded,
I’ll be what remains
of your dreams when they’ve just faded,
and I guess that’s my fate.
I’ll make slivers of myself,
I’ll make slivers of myself,
I’ll make slivers of myself
then I’ll be golden rain.

What if we woke up
what if we woke up
one fine morning
and walked away.
Like we weren’t born,
like we didn’t long
for one more day
or need to stay.

And we’d know it’s grace
‘cause it couldn’t be any better,
then we’d understand
what we meant in all those letters,
but I can’t change our fate.
We are sea waves in a shell
we are sea waves in a shell,
we are sea waves in a shell,
let it be golden rain.