as the waves will always roll, i'll think of you. it's important to know what we couldn't do and i'm looking every night: all in time, most of this will try to fade from the cold inside and morning light to save for the fallen son deep at home (and either one would never know). it just kept coming on, trying to stay down at all and pull it apart again until the quiet's gone digging, just to fill it in (and missing where the pieces fall) or maybe slipping still, as the blinds are drawn. was there something that i made and never gave to you? i'll keep it to myself as i think of you and the waves will always roll