Set to sail your soul at high tide.

High time you left that shadow,

dead weight in the meadow.

Let it follow far below.



Oh, Oh, Oh



Whoa, what a ceiling!

All the angels cracked and peeling,

revealing constellations,

one day you will name one,

after a boy you knew

when you were back in middle school

and ingrained his name in love notes,

everyone retained though,

in a box, behind your raincoats.



Oh, those days

Where rainy days meant

Traces, Faces, Raindrops made when

Racing cross the windshield

The pace of life wasn't real

Oh, though how we quicken

how the slope began to slicken

you slip into a grim then,

begin with where you've been and

in my linen you are skin again.



La da da

La da da da da daa

Da da daa

Da daa daa

La da da daa da da daa daa



Oh, oh, clouds crash on the hillside.

Set to sail your soul at high tide.

High time you left that shadow,

dead weight in the meadow.

In my linen you are skin again.