She is as quiet as this night, she is as far as moon.
Standing with no hope I wait for a Queen tide and wash me away down to her feet.
Left on this forgotten land, I eat dust to find her trace.
Sky is the only common now, hold hands to heat now.
Years of wait and love, wets off my paper-ship, with no promise I sail to death.
Will you allow me, Will you let me!
Should I follow you, Will you let me!