| It’s not a screen that you pass through |
| A shine in your eyes too bright |
| A pool outside of a window |
| Being pulled by the changing light |
| I can’t look directly at it |
| Your face distorted in the window |
| Swimming out towards my new life |
| Dragged in by the undertow |
| I’m Sisyphus, you’re the witness |
| It’s intimate, the violence |
| It’s palpable to want it all |
| It’s palpable to want |
| I can’t look directly at it |
| Your face distorted in the window |
| Swimming out towards my new life |
| Dragged in by the undertow |
| The salt, the spit, the magic |
| To last, to be romantic |
| It’s not a screen where I can call you |
| A recording of what you said |
| All my time I have is diamonds |
| Rolling around my head |
| Maybe I can be a diver |
| Heavy on the sea bed |
| Sliding into water |
| Pushing up against the edge |
| I can’t look directly at it |
| Your face distorted in the window |
| Swimming out towards my new life |
| Dragged back by the undertow |
| The salt, the spit, the magic |
| To last, to be romantic |