400 Bones

Four hundred bones, crumpled in bed

I'm the only one who knows that you're still breathing

Beneath the blanket of another French death

This afternoon is one I will be keeping

Where skin is painted by a brush from the sun

Pull the sheets up to your neck so she can't see us

And let the clocks do all the worrying for once

We're passing out inside the sleeping mausoleum

This is my safe house in the hurricane

Here is where my love lays

Two hundred treasured bones

This is my warmth behind the cold war

That day is what I'm living for

Forever coming home

Here's to the room I can rest in

The door I'll always open

Never to be closed

You as my horizon line

The star I navigate by

Takes me back to hold two hundred perfect bones

On absent days I will return to this place

And play a silent colour film within my head

In which the pillow leaves a code upon your face

And all at once it all makes perfect sense

Four hundred bones, crumpled in bed

I'm the only one who knows that you're still breathing