Four hundred bones, crumpled in bed I'm the only one who knows that you're still breathing Beneath the blanket of another French death This afternoon is one I will be keeping Where skin is painted by a brush from the sun Pull the sheets up to your neck so she can't see us And let the clocks do all the worrying for once We're passing out inside the sleeping mausoleum This is my safe house in the hurricane Here is where my love lays Two hundred treasured bones This is my warmth behind the cold war That day is what I'm living for Forever coming home Here's to the room I can rest in The door I'll always open Never to be closed You as my horizon line The star I navigate by Takes me back to hold two hundred perfect bones On absent days I will return to this place And play a silent colour film within my head In which the pillow leaves a code upon your face And all at once it all makes perfect sense Four hundred bones, crumpled in bed I'm the only one who knows that you're still breathing