These hands are for rope burns
And holding off the sun
Setting oars to the ocean
Like a fisherman's son
Turned to look for my father
This is his father's boat
And his hands are as old
As these oars in my hands
So why should I swim ashore?
And lose all I've become?
Forget my own name
And be anyone's son?
Are you good for it all?
Are you good for the journey?
Are you good for it all?
And did you know about the loneliness?
'Cause I'm leaving my nets
And my father behind
Heard them say you're a holy man
But more dangerous than some
Well are you sure I'm the one
With my fisherman hands?
But you smell like the wood-shop floor
And the sweat of a priest
And you came down to the sea
With fresh dust on your feet
So what if I come ashore
And I take what I've become
And put it all on the table
Would you call me on the question
Are you good for it all?
Are you good for the journey?
Are you good for it all?
And did you know about the loneliness?
'Cause I'm leaving my nets
And my father behind
This is all that I've known
Every morning I waken to
This same ache in my bones
And then you come calling
"Come find your way home"
And I feel it awaken too
This same ache in my bones