| Go down to the water where the oil floats by
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| Drop your hair down and cry
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| And write with your finger in the sand
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| Mail it out with the tide
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| Mail it out with the high and the low
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| Watch the marks in the sand
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| Listen to the fog on the homeless waves
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| And feel the salt sea in your hands
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| Smell that sea wind, taste on your lips
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| That foam that rolls over my lost ships
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| Write your letter once more in the sand
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| Where the breaker dips and our undertow slips
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| Kneel down and feel the water’s edge
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| Write our names side by side
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| And look and listen to all those ships
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| That toss in the fog and in the tides
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| Let down your hair when you kneel down there
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| Let me be the wind that pulls your hair
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| And you be the man you made out of sand
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| And let your hands keep making him there
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| When nobody is looking kiss your hand
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| And touch to the nose of your man in the sand
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| Then lay down with your head on his chest
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| Be nice, be nice to your man on the sand |