Stuck in a world of water and glass—-
Of recycled air and years that have passed.
No one's going to find us here.
They don't know to look.
No rescue is coming.
No one's going to find us here.
They don't know to look.
No rescue is coming.
We took away to make our homes.
Now nothing remains
From all of our hunger.
We gave into our need to own,
So the tide in its rage
Has taken us under.
We are waiting to be found
At the bottom of the earth,
And frequently we'll send a melody.
To the surface of the womb,
Where our hope of notice looms.
From the perfect place for all humanity—-
In the valley of the deep.
Death is a stranger
With tricks up his sleeves
That we'll always need
But we'll never receive.
No one's going to find us here.
They don't know to look.
No rescue is coming.
No one's going to find us here.
They don't know to look.
No rescue is coming.
We are waiting to be found
At the bottom of the earth,
And frequently we'll send a melody.
To the surface of the womb,
Where our hope of notice looms.
From the perfect place for all humanity—-
From the valley of the deep.
I wanna see those gardens where I used to pray.
Where I watched the sun come up
And evening turn to day.
Light never seems to find this place.
This black is a permanent reminder that...
We are waiting to be found
At the bottom of the earth.
And frequently we'll send a melody.
To the surface of the womb,
Where our hope of notice looms.
From the perfect place for all humanity—-
In the valley of the deep.
Writer(s): Andrew Gordon Moore, Laura Beth Hudson, Jonathan L. Childs, Wesley James Blaylock, Kelsey Grant Harelson, Justin Weis Froning
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