Out into your peripheries.

You are, you are the sleep that holds me
tightly to my bed as my limbs are longing to wander.
And you can't hear me through the bad reception
But my voice is tremblin', full of wanting.

"Honey, can't you see out into your peripheries,
that it ain't just you and me now, it ain't just you and me:

Do you hear the sound? Hear the sound? Of the sea?"


CAN YOU FEEL IT ALL?