You point to the sky Is reflected in your eyes Want to fly On a carpet of brown leaves We retrace the steps of change Construct a tapestry of what will come You point to the sea

Yeah little things they make me so happy You point the finger at me but I don't believe In my mind there is no time All I want to do is live by the sea But it's good yes it's good it's good to be free Head like a rock spinning round and round I found it

Holts are nearly always close to the sea Fallen boulders, old ruins, and cliffs All at the top of a sand crevice High above the sea A safe place for cubs We wait tense We're disappointed She leaves her sprint loaded by others of us The holts are evenly