Give me a strong grip to hold on
to these sweet cliffs
after you’re gone,
and I will tell some stories true
of how I’ll sleep
right next to you.
When the sun’s gone and you feel fear,
I’ll speak of springs
and skies so clear.
I’ll tell you how magic is real
inside your eyes,
in how I feel.
I know in fact, there’s fiction few
but promise me,
in all you do,
whether you stay or leave me be,
just leave the end