There's a dream I have,
it comes back when all the days turn into one.
I'm in a coat and hat,
and I'm standing on the coast of England.
With a castle and cathedral on the sand,
I reached down to touch the water with my hand.
Then you turn and say to me,
"You've been talking in your sleep,
What did you see? What does it mean?"

I was a photograph
of our daytrip from the window of a train.
The one we cut in half.
I kept mine and made a bookmark on a page.
It fell out today as I was getting packed.
Have I left you here more times than I've come back?
Like that snowfall out of reach,
we kept our details underneath,
once made of stone, we went for broke.
I didn't know.

Are you a dreamer?