There's a fine white line
Drawn between the ocean and the sky
There's a fine, fine sign
A sinking sun, the stars roll in behind
On Applecross ridge, I cast ashes to the sea
On Applecross ridge, I set his broken body free
What a thing to share
Paper words, promises of air
What a thing to be
A lifeboat that won't go into the sea
On Applecross ridge in the setting sun
I do not wait, you do not come
On Applecross ridge in the setting sun
The ghosts are gone, the ghosts are gone