Messenger

[Verse]
Cut into an arched silver line
Horizon is rising
Sifting currency on the beach
With hands made of sieves

[Chorus]
I see the seafoam rising up
From way down
Are you the messenger
And is this home?

[Verse]
There's a crane that has fallen down
Where the salt marsh is growing
No more pension for Mother
Or my stepdad

[Chorus]
I see the seafoam rising up
And changing its form
Are you the messenger
And is this home?