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Israel

de The Waiting

Call me Israel
Since some years ago, it's been my fate to sail November seas,
And this I know.
No sailor was I born, no seaman was I bred
Still, the sea has carved an eye for sinking ships and floating dead.

Call me Israel
I sail a sea of sand, and at the journey's close,
Will you suppose a man is still a man
Who would turn against the wind, who would barrel out his chest
Sail his vessel to the brink and think the fall will give him rest?

I wrestle with the wind, I wrestle with the waves
And ropes tear in my skin and still, within the storm...

Call me Israel
Since some years ago, it's been my fate to sail November seas
Inside my soul

And I wrestle with the wind, and I wrestle with the waves
And ropes tear in my skin and still, within the storm, within the sea,
Within the rage
I can see You...

Call me Israel
I sail a sea of sand
I'm the very soul my Father holds forever in His hand

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