Shards of the moon are salted through the sand Where the sun bends down and turning to the land Says I am understood to understand Where clouds seem to surf some subsurface of sky When the sun sets and then the moon rises With Milky Way and falling star surprises Over Marisol and Bowser as I Wonder underneath without quite knowing why How things can turn out right sometimes like now And how hope seems not so hopeless not to me Not to who got out not to who got free Out of trouble out in Paradise somehow Steven Curtis Lance