| If you insist on pictures of shorelines
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| then i insist on pages of your lines meant for me,
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| to be sent to me.
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| Remember watching the storms from the lifeguard stand.
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| Remember feeling the tingling in my fingertips
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| when I touched your lips.
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| And I recall how you sat on the same side of me,
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| it always seemed that you’d always be on my side.
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| You’re my best side.
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| And it’s early June, so the sand’s still dry,
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| and you have got the boldest eyes,
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| and I can’t help but think it’s right,
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| that inside you it’s me I’ll find.
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| And I’m still waiting.
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| And it’s early June, so the sand’s still dry,
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| and the storm off shore is not far behind.
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| And I’m still waiting.
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| And sometimes you don’t say a thing for a long while.
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| And the ships off shore hold stories that we’d make.
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| And sometimes we are held at bay by these miles.
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| But less of you is more than I can take.
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| And the moments that we’ve shared could last a lifetime.
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| And the faith I have in us will keep you near.
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| And several of these miles placed in between us mean several of these words being sent by mail.
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| I hope this letter finds you well. |