the sea, and all its sea-lings can devour
unwary souls who see them only kind;
we know the truth: each minute and each hour
is one more chance to seek what's lost, and find
but i am covered up, in salt and summer;
a habit only broken by the noon,
you sing to me from somewhere just off camera
a strange and yet familiar sort of tune
the undulations of the waves mean something:
that we are temporary, as is strife --
we justify our actions by our nature,
but cancer, too's, a natural part of life --
give me the strength to be the proper brave
and yield just like the soft part of the wave
