Once, I was dug up, I was sinking, I was longing to be saved.
I lapped up to the bay bar and I saw her bobbing like a wave and I slowed down.

Just six months this summer since I've known her that she's been away.
And sometimes I still answer to the gone ghosts that only suckers make.
Slow down and hold on. Hold on.

Even my heroes are almost gone, almost folding from the flame,
But how low can your fuse glow and warm you until your torch begins to fade?

I dreamed of a couple dancing close and drunk in the spary of lights they made.
And once I was dug up, I was sinking, but now I'm longing to be saved.