Is there nothing new underneath the sun?
Some unfound way to tell of all you've done...
I sit around and round in circles
All that I find is one thing true:
I'm trying to resist saying things you've heard
I'm trying to invent a new way with words
All that I find in my frustration
Is that it does not change the way I feel 'cos
There are no words that I could say
There is no music I could play
There is no song I could sing
To tell of all the love you bring
Are all my sleepless nights just a waste of time?
Will my words mean anything if I can't make them rhyme?
You're waiting for me to break the silence
You're listening even though you already know that
There...
There is nothing new
Underneath the sun
And I'm lost for words anyway
You're a symphony
Washing over me
Washing over me...
