Ask myself for more radio,
in The court of a shore,
than I'll be gone, through the dark,
in the palm of a storm.
Thinkin' I was sure of your love, anymore,
in the stones, in the pauses of a cold radio.
I thought myself a loser,
you're blindin' on a wall and you're gone.
Radio, with your love and your bones,
in the cold of a start or in the pause of the
dust of your own, radio.
I thought myself a loser,
you're blindin' on a wall and you're gone.