the land that we stand on is not ours 
the house that we sleep in is empty 
there's ice on the lake and it looks so old
the days are [bad word] friendlier 

the water has broken in new clouds 
the wrist of the skyline is bleeding 
the temperature's stagnant as rooftops 
and love 
i don't know any place where we're needed 

it's over 
she loves you
it's over
it's love

give me a minute
and i will wait for an hour
write an address on my eyelids
and i'll stamp my mouth 
give me the surname of copenhagen to look up 
and i'll stamp my mouth