The ocean spat me out this morning I hit my head, the blood was running Like fire that runs through me And it had the colour of you hair. It drips a pattern in the snow A trace of guilt for what we did Last night I was an open book And you tore the pages 'til they didn't make Any sense And the song for you has already been written By someone else Not me. Allow the fire to cool down a bit Before I proceed To walk into the same direction Like you as we agreed. I watch you from across the table Drawing white lines that will separate us I read you like an open book And you tear the pages 'til they don't make Any sense And the song for you has already been written By someone else not me.