Thirty-Two Years

Water's rising. Fire is falling.
There's soldiers marching 'cross the sea.
And all I think is, you are far from me.

Twenty four, her life before her.
The world was wide and love adored her.
At twenty four she planned a wedding, at twenty five she planned a wake.

And all this time I thought my heart knew how to break, but I've never really known.
You don't talk about these things when you're thirty two years old.

We build lives and we build houses, cars and sand and clouds.
We build walls to keep us safe and then it all comes down.
It all comes down so easily.

We pull close the ones we love, we pull close the ones who matter.
We pull close the ones we've lost and watch it all come down.
It all... comes down.

We hold on to each other, we make love like it's a lifeline.
Brief human touch to see us through the cold.
You don't talk about these things when you're thirty two years old.

My love, sleep tight.
There's two thousand miles between us tonight.
But four more days and four more towns 'til I can wake beside you.

I sat by the foot of the bed and watched her sleep, as though that would be helpful.
The brief embrace of human kindness to see us through the cold.
Said goodbye my friend sleep well. We'll do our best to keep her sheltered.
To hold her up and dry those tears and all the things I know you'd do if you were here.

And all this time I thought my heart knew how to break, but I've never really lost.
You don't talk about these things when you're thirty two years old.
All my life these things mistake for heartbreak, but I've never really known.
You don't talk about these things when you're thirty two years old.