A Storm on the Ocean

It’s hard to fall asleep when you see all the holes in things

It’s hard to fix them by yourself

It’s hard to make somebody happy

Let alone to make yourself

Now the trees fall down by the window

It’s late at night and you feel alone

Think that roof might not stay on another winter

Another winter and that whole damn place could be gone

If I were a storm upon the ocean

I would move towards the land

If I were a quiet, haunted dreamer

I would hold your hand

Its the curse of the seeker to be unfinished

It’s the job of a fool to be a saint

The prairie is cursed with red and golden ink

The sky is just a swirl of paint

I am a storm upon the ocean

I am moving toward the land

I am a quiet, haunted dreamer

I will hold your hand

I am a quiet, haunted dreamer

I will hold your hand