Blue is the colour of the sea, is the colour of me when I’m looking at you… through the shadow of–through the shadow of the truth. And blue is the blanket of waves, is washing away the sand in my shell, ringing the bell, breaking grey skies into slivers of light.

And they say, “It’ll be alright.”

Why don’t we say what we mean and mean what we say? I never liked flowers anyway. As permanent as promises… as permanent as promises, they wither and fade. I guess we all gotta go someday.

We came to a place that only I knew, I could tell by the Blue seeping into my bones, a familiar itch that whispered, “Go.” And it’s true, I could have loved you had I not ran out of rope, but somehow Hope mistook “Goodbye” for a smile and a sigh.

Knock, knock, knock at the door, I let you in. Talk, talk, talk ‘til you fill the spaces with more than nudging glances. Now you’re taking chances. We talk below a whisper behind paper-thin walls somehow thinking we are wise enough to make the call. I should have never followed, but I did and so I fell for the bottle of words that you tried to sell.

Don’t tell me riddles you don’t even know the answers to. My mind is all used up trying to untangle you. And the hardest part is knowing I believed you instead of me.

I knew by the way you looked away from the one that drew arrows through your name... You thought I couldn’t see how far you were from being free. I’m not saying I’m broken-hearted, I just keep replaying how this whole thing started, and now we can’t go back to being just two people that happen to hum the same tune.

Knock, knock, knock goes my head against the wall. We don’t talk... well, hardly at all.

You’ve been so strange, anyone can tell, and it’s getting old as your excuses. Go home, and get some sleep ‘cause cigarettes and wine won’t save you. There was no way to extrapolate your intentions from the outside in. While you were falling, I was falling in a different direction.

It’s not as bad as your convex thoughts try and tell you it is... and sometimes the space between your head and heart gets a little bit congested... but if you wanna be well, be well, instead of blaming me or yourself. If you wanna be well, be well, and stop dwelling on wishes and wishing on wells.

I really thought that we were getting closer to finding a new place, but you weren’t ready to let go of the only thing that’s holding you here. You are the hardest one to write, but I’ve said all I can really say with a handful of words that will always read the same.

The weight of the world does not exist unless you give it life to live. The weight of the world does not exist once you see that right now is all there is.

Rain is my natural state. I am a child of the water, and I’ve been trying to stay close, but I’m a fish not a fisherman’s daughter. And I’ve been trying to find an anchor, but absence makes my heart wander, so I’m afraid I’ve got to go before I drag you under.

Take a look at the moon tonight she’s got a hold on, hold on me, and she’s taking me with the tide, and tonight we’re headed out to sea. Not even you could hold me down–that was the part that I left out–so goodnight, moonlight, goodnight.

And it’s okay if you decide you don’t like me anymore. If I could I would stay here with you, standing on the shore, but there’s no water on the beach, and I’m not the kind you’re looking for. I’m a lot less gold and a little more sword.

Just give me handfuls of time and a place to put the rhyme. I’ll give you reasons why I can’t tell what is real or remember how it feels to walk without looking back.

They think you can swim forever, they think you can swim for the rest of your life. Do you worry for your children when you see that blue reflection in their eyes?

Another icicle melts, another piece falls off the shelf. How long will we wait? How long before it’s too late to make it right, too late to think we might have a chance to turn back and learn how to face the facts?

For so many people seeing is believing. So far we’ve only seen you in our dreams. You’re too far away from home, and we’re too afraid to go to the places on the postcards we read.

Beware of empty cupboards, beware of the sun, beware of the flood... it will get you when you’ve got your headphones on.

When you have nowhere else to go you can stay at our place, and when the dogs go missing maybe we will listen, but by then it will be too late.