There are no answers in the pages
Endless lines where we wait
And our hands plow the furrows
Sketching lines on our face
And I long for you
down roads they'd walk me through
But I have grown tired,
tired of endless guessing
My love, I look for you
There are no answers in these pages
Only lines where we wait
And I stuff my ears to listen
Close my eyes to your gaze
Do I cast my lots with all,
all I have known?
Do I refuse the call
that brings me back home?
And I've tossed and turned upon these questions
I've piled like stones to throw
I raise my arm, you raise the invitation:
To be loved is to know

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