Before the tide, this shoreline kept a shape Salt current carries the shoreline clean, What the hollow held slips from between. Wash it under, wash it clear. Wash it under, wash it clear. Ebb tide loosens the anchor of a face, Brine dissolves the particular grace. Wash it under, wash it clear. Wash it under, wash it clear. Bloated hollow where a current used to swell, Bursting quiet where a shape did dwell. Wash it under, wash it clear. Wash it under, wash it clear. Ruined jetty stands where memory moored, Nothing but drift where a name was stored. Wash it under, wash it clear. Wash it under, wash it clear. After the tide, the shoreline keeps none
