Too easy to love, taken for granted. If I were you, I'd be forgetful. Afraid, afraid, burning away the ambers, burying the thoughts with the ashes. You think there's a nicer time to be this reckless with decisions?
And the days die and are left behind, like the surge of the sea. But they're coming, The days are coming, one day at a time, and one day you'll be one, a day, a sailor, gone.