And I'll be here by the ocean
Just waiting for proof that there's sunsets and silhouette dreams
All my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes
And every wave drags me to sea
I could stand here for hours
Just to ask God the question "Is everyone here make-believe?"
With a tear in His voice, He says, "Son, that's the question."

Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?