I’ve lost you in the streams again Folded waves under stress Another break in the trails commence And cost all instinct A healing embrace Could post us into place, I swear And I still pretend That all these ashes in my head The crystallizing dead Are means to an end A careful eye on an ascent A cradling content I’ve lost you in the streams again Folded waves under stress Another break in the trails commence And cost all instinct A healing embrace Could post us into place, I swear I’ll comb across the finest sand And measure out to descend Another lapse in her distant hands In Alison’s hands To see in your face, and delicately say, I swear I am here to disappear beneath the salted skies Almost home, on my own, a runner in the rye