When it all comes clear, the wind is settled, I’ll be here, you know.
Cause you said ours were the lighthouse towers
The sun upon that place
Darling I’ll grow weary, happy still
With just the memory of your face
Gracious goes the ghost of you
And I will never forget the plans and the
Silhouettes you drew here and
Gracious goes the ghost of you
My dear
—Ben Howard