Wild Horses.

Whoever is writing the story of my life,

you're doing a beautiful job.

I can see it when I close my eyes.

Frozen frames in a slideshow.

I see them;

Open up the sunroof, let the rain fall in.

Sobbing on an airport floor in Dublin.

Because I just can't imagine leaving you this way.

Sloppy barbecue on a paper placemat. 

After an birthday afternoon on a sunny spring bank.

You and me, on my roof, looking at the sky,

and then looking at each other.

Head on head, earphones split, so we can hear

the same music as we roll through the hills.

Pouring rain, kissing on a playground.

Telling you the reason I had fallen in love,

was because I see you and you're kind.

Your head in my neck, 

because I simply like you carrying you places.

And so I carry you everywhere.

I carry you everywhere.