I find the map and draw a straight line
Over rivers, farms, and state lines
The distance from me to where you'd be
It's only finger-lengths that I see
I touch the place where I'd find your face
My finger in creases of distant dark places
Their words mostly noises
Ghosts with just voices
Your words in my memory
Are like music to me
I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground and I
I pray that something picks me up
And sets me down in your warm arms
Snow Patrol
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