he stands alone, takes sips of beer
as the sun, the sun begins to fade
he watches it intently
sees the stones begin to crumble
and wonders if she really meant those words she said
'cause he fails to understand it
he struggles inside to read her
so he silently seeks answers in the waves

to her it all seems normal
water from a bottle
as she picks apart her bread
she watches him in wonder
not knowing what she needs
convinced he's not the one, at least not now
she doesn't know they'll hurt her
down the road, another life
maybe someday she'll realize
it's his face she sees in the waves

there's no such thing as answers
to the questions in his heart
it's never black and white
and he can't break it apart
so he walks alone, and looks down the road
and wonders
if she'd ever change her mind
but he sees her there, and he knows she won't
she won't
have a change of heart

simple waves crash in
and out with a certain grace
of complex nature

tell me, what am I supposed to feel
if thy heart has come and gone?
if the ink in this pen runs dry
and the light inside thee burns out.
what shall become of me, then
when the center in which thy glowing stems,
under flesh and bone,
burns so brightly, no more?
tell me, what then will I feel?
what more will leak out of me?
what else more can be caught,
so delicately, in the palms of open pages?