Borrowed Breath

There's silence in my fishing town
With nothing but the wind
To shake the walls of my wooden house
And beg me to let it in
The salty air whips my hair around
My pale and weathered skin
As I sit and wait by the old lighthouse
For the storm clouds to roll in
The storm clouds to roll in

I'm weathered and worn but my house is still
Standing against the wind
And whether I'm torn from the sky I'll still
Know when the night begins

I cast my net into the deep blue
Which now reflects the stars
A reminder of a deeper truth
That which we hold is not ours
On borrowed breath I whistle a tune
A tune that beckons sleep
And memories of my mothers arms
Not even memories will we keep
Not even memories will we keep

I'm weathered and worn but my house is still
Standing against the wind
And whether I'm torn from the sky I'll still
Know when the night begins

Breathe in lean back into the arms of rest
Exhale slowly and turn to face the west

I'm weathered and worn but my house is still
Standing against the wind
And whether I'm torn from the sky I'll still
Know when the night begins