Out where the stones lay like bones by the ocean,
Out where the waves crash contempt on the land.
Someone was trembling for fear of the tempest,
Somebody silently reached for their hand.
Said, 
“Understand that if you’re cold, I’ll keep you warm. 
And besides, there’s so much beauty in a storm.  [bad word] down with me to the shore. 
And what’s more? I adore you.

So tell me, what is there to fear?
You think some seraph up above is trying to rob us of our love
Because the skies not clear?
My dear, you know there’s not—now, listen to the rain upon the rooftop.”

But the wind picked up.

Out where the stones stand up like thrones beside the ocean,
Out where the waves make a grave of the sea,
The lovers [bad word] in the middle of the tempest,
And water angrily crawled up onto beach.
Said, “Hold my hand, and stay with me, we’ll be released.” 
But the tide clung like an anchor to her feet. And
Though he tried to make the water line recede,
It pulled her out into the sea.

He could not break apart the waves
To bring her safely back in.
He watched her hand break through the surface, once, 
Then disappear again, forever. 

Wait inside the sea for me, my dear,
I hear you.
You speak in every curling wave,
And sing in every violent breeze.
Someday not far away from here, my dear,
I swear I’ll see you.
And we will hear the seraphs cry,
For they will still envy “You and I”.

How they envied “You and I.”