Where the Wood Grows
From my stone bench throne, I survey the sea below
And find the morning tide has returned me to a ghost

We're on my bed and we're laughing
Your voice like a windsong, creased eyes when we pause for breath
I look down, I look anywhere but at you, and you look nowhere else but at me
And I'm wondering what you might think

Sails cap the white waves in the beginnings of a new day
Where the morning tide has washed the night away

If I told you how beautiful you look with flushed cheeks and pulled back hair
When I speak I'm breathless, my hands sweat
I say I want to kiss you, and you say you want to kiss me
But we both know it's not meant to be