I could have sworn we were healing,
Beneath the bright skies, O my Anabelle.
I watched you put on your war paint.
Everything shined. You were beautiful.
I remember the way that you looked,
In the winter sun; it was something new.
Like flares dancin’ across the sky, waiting for rescue,
I believed in you.
We kept a quiet company,
In that old house by the sea.
And on most nights, I’d call it sleep.
We kept just a little love in a jar by the sink,
And on some nights, I’d take a drink.
But on most nights, I’d call it sleep.
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