Cyclic

Floating on the waves
On top of the sea foam.
We pretend that it’s our home.
We pretend that it’s our grave.
Until the water sways too low,
and you no longer know,
Where to keep your home.

But you hear the comfy breeze,
And you like its gentle song,
So you decide to ride along,
But breeze can change with ease,
And now you want to leave,
And you no longer know,
Where to keep your home.

You're always making problems for yourself,
everything has its ups and downs, it's true.
But you can't give up on the slightest change,
just because it not the same.
This is what we need.

You can't stop the waves,
Or have sway in the breeze.
You wish the wind would cease.
You hide within the caves.
I throw spears into the sea,
So that we can always know,
Where to keep our homes.

You're always making problems in your mind,
you block the good behind what’s new.
But you can't give up on the slightest change,
without it would you be the same?
This is what makes you,
you.

I battled while you wrote.
In the caves I went to find.
What you left behind.
It seems you wrote a note.
"I see that you can't cope,
With the swaying of the waves,

You must find another home"

Who would’ve known?
Who could’ve guessed?

The waves have drowned us and I don't know if I'm still your home.
Now, what I show is
Hypocrisy at best
The breeze has choked us and I don't know if I'm still your home.

Nature crushed us but you were the only home I ever had known.