I’ve lost you in the streams again
Folded waves under stress
Another break in the trails commence
And cost all instinct
A healing embrace
Could post us into place, I swear

And I still pretend
That all these ashes in my head
The crystallizing dead
Are means to an end
A careful eye on an ascent
A cradling content

I’ve lost you in the streams again
Folded waves under stress
Another break in the trails commence
And cost all instinct
A healing embrace
Could post us into place, I swear
I’ll comb across the finest sand
And measure out to descend
Another lapse in her distant hands
In Alison’s hands
To see in your face, and delicately say, I swear

I am here to disappear beneath the salted skies
Almost home, on my own, a runner in the rye