Ancient white blankets lie dormant,
Steeped in the rhythmic brine.
Criers chase the laughing wind.
Angels fall from the glinting monolith,
Crashing in the placid deep.
Ancient white blankets lie dormant,
Steeped in the rhythmic brine.
Criers chase the laughing wind.
Angels fall from the glinting monolith,
Crashing in the placid deep.