I could lose her,
A rising tide
Up on my chin
A new epistle
Keeps me up
After the night.
I will lose her.
Awash on the shore
A new breath
In my lungs-
A great grace.
I could lose her,
A rising tide
Up on my chin
A new epistle
Keeps me up
After the night.
I will lose her.
Awash on the shore
A new breath
In my lungs-
A great grace.