of all the girls you’ve kissed before me,
have they any clue at all,
they’re the subject of the songs you sing,
and the paintings on your wall?
do they know how it feels,
how it feels to be the one?
but i don’t,
no i don’t think their memories are gone.
of all these trees you’ve seen before me,
oh they seem so brightly lit,
as you walk atop their fallen leaves,
i bet they’ve never seen you so big.
and you’ll wear all your stripes,
and i wear my locket.
and i hope you are mine,
still i’ll never forget,
that your house is filled with ghosts of a shipwreck.
they swam to the surface their bodies no different.
found the dust in your corners,
the warmth in your close doors,
in a trunk of old papers, a quilt by four grandmas.
burn your kerosene,
please stay up wait for me,
as you burn your kerosene,
please stay up late for me,
because i’ll be the last to come home.
i will be the late one to your arms.
yes i’ll be the last to come home.
i will be the late one to your arms.
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