If there's a lie behind those golden eyes
or malice within that red heart
It's lying in wait for the next sordid fate and hating your sorry part

The soul is old like the winter trees
Your mind is live like the ocean breeze
and we've only dared to dream of things like these

If there's a hope in the salt and the dust
or love in the biting sun
It's hope that tomorrow is under the rust
and love that worst is done

The sun doesn't burn and the wind doesn't cut
like the sadness we saw in the depth of that rut,
and scratches on hands can be covered with time and gloves.
So we'll learn how to sew and we'll know or we'll learn to look up
We'll learn how to sew and we'll know or we'll learn to look up