Portugal. The Man
"Salt"


My legs are all buried in salt, the way
as my lips move out all of my words, the way

But this can't be all that we have to wait

pressing pulling this pains, the way
they listen and listen for all the way

but this can't be all we have to wait

do you hear the wind child?
calling out the salt plains
listen to the wind child
its calling, calling out your name
I was born of sun beams
warming up our limbs
born up from the earth, child


No I'll never come back down, never come down from here
(This can't be all that we have to wait)