Dear, would you wake me early in the morning? I've got something to show you.
We'll watch Beauty herself coming over the edge of the world.
She'll use the sky and the horizon as her canvas
and shed a little light for the paint.
The sunrise is always just a little more breathtaking when your eyes reflect the golden sun,
the golden sun.
This notebook full of empty pages
like the patchwork of the quilt in which you lay
will soon become the weary cages you trust your heart to hold together.
My frail appeal to avoid the inevitable,
when you're gone and I'll be standing here alone
in the city of which neither of us are very fond,
neither of us are very fond.
With your head asleep on my shoulder,
I admit that I don't miss you just yet.
As I'm writing you this letter that tells you how much I hate when you're away.
But I'll be sure to mark the envelope
with a note that says Dont open,
till the light behind the seat belt sign fades
and the pilot says youre free to leave your seat.
'Cause I'm sure by then I'll be missing you to death.
I'll be missing you to death.
Hey, Golden Sun, would you wake up real slow?
I found colors fall like Autumn salt from your eyes,
and in the morning when you wake
to the breaking of the dawn,
you'll be the first one that I see and the last one that I love,

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