So let me think of how to word it Is it too soon to say 'perfect'? If I could find another thirty minutes somewhere I'm sure everything would find me All that's left is just to sing And I'll be here by the ocean Just waiting for proof that there's sunsets and silhouette dreams All my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes And every waves drags me to sea I could stand here for hours Just to ask God the question, "Is everyone here make-believe?" With a tear in His voice, He said, "Son, that's the question." Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?
"Are not five sparrow sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows" -Luke 12;6-7