I'm made of driftwood,
I go at the mercy of the river undertow,
I come, I come and go,
I'm everything that I couldn't call mine.
I come, I come and go,
I'm everything that I couldn't call mine.
I have the edges so rounded,
I was tattooing myself with water and time,
I come, I come and go,
I'm much less what I know than what I feel.
I come, I come and go,
I'm much less what I know than what I feel.
And someday I drifted to your bank,
I ran aground on a bend of your sand,
you got hold of my dreams and my nightmares,
of my bad lights and my Christmas Eves.
I don't know what it is that they call fate,
perhaps it's barely a grain in the wood.
I just know that I made a stop on the way
and today I would stay forever by your side.
I just know that I made a stop on the way
and today I would forever stay by your side.
I'm made of driftwood,
I go at the mercy of the river undertow,
I come, I come and go,
I'm everything that I couldn't call mine.
I come, I come and go,
I'm everything that I couldn't call mine.