My sands, I grip it in my hands,
My precious, shan't lose a single grain of sand,
The sands, how they cut my hands
But take from me, not one you shall,

A gentle breeze drifts past me
Embraces me, holds me,
Whispers as it's fingers tugs at mine
Daughter of the ocean, she says
Come, walk with me,
And as I let her take my hands,
My sands, in my hands
They fall, they rise
Around me, through me
Holds me, frees me.
Free, with her I fly,
I live, I die.