When he sings to my smile, 
every single mistake escapes. 

When he plays his guitar, 
every instinct I own says home. 

When he sleeps like he does, 
like a lost summer day, 
I keep. 

When he looks after me 
like a man who knows loss, 
I weep. 

When he acts like he does, 
like he’s trapped in his soul, 
I wait. 

When he sings to my smile, 
every single mistake escapes. 

When he acts like he does, 
like he’s trapped in his soul, 
I wait.