In times when I am all at sea;

On days like this I love the land.

As thoughts return again to thee,

My heart was always in your hand.

Then I yearned the simple way;

With thoughts that wander not too far.

A man that I could never be,

Who always leaves the door ajar.

The wind of change soft on my face.

My life was built on shifting sand.

As grain by grain it slips away,

My heart falls slowly from your hand.