From the recording Windows
An older woman who has reached a place of seeing the spectrum of her experiences both joyful and at times horrific and how they have made up the mosaic of her life. A surrendering to the bigger picture, and the relief of that surrendering.
Lyrics
Angels In The Sand
(Penwell, Sharp)
There are days when I feel like a bag of little pieces hoping two of them might land just right and come together. There are days when I can still hear you say it’s beneath us to lay it down, get on the ground, surrender. I make an angel in the sand let the tide wash it away. I’m making angels in the sand these days. Need was not the way to love we said goodbye from the beginning. Already gone, we hung on too long, afraid and unwilling to make our angels in the sand, let the tide wash them away. I’m making angels in the sand these days. I’m making sense of these scattered moments, make too much of one the next one rolls right by. I take them in like the tide and then I let them fly. My angels in the sand. My angels in the sand. High enough to break the chains of old reaction. High enough to see the mosaic in the mess. High enough to not give you the satisfaction. Now that you’re gone, of thinking that I’m holding onto anything…. No, I’m making sense of these scattered moments, make too much of one the next one rolls right by. I take them in like the tide and then I let them fly. My angels in the sand. My angels in the sand. There are days when I feel like a bag of little pieces hoping two of them might land just right and come together. I make an angel in the sand let the tide wash it away. I’m making angels in the sand these days.