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—
From 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 turned 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
