400 Bones, crumpled in bed, I'm the only one who knows that you're still breathing Beneath the blanket, of another French d**h, this afternoon is one I will be keeping Where skin is painted by a brush from the Sun, pull the sheets up to your neck so She can't see us And let the clocks do all the worrying for once, we're pa**ing out inside the sleeping mausoleum This is my safe house in the hurricane, here is where my love lays, 200 treasured bones This is my warmth behind the Cold War, this is what I'm living for, forever coming home Here's to the room I can rest in, the door I've always opened, never to be closed You as my horizon line, the star I navigate by, takes me back to hold 200 perfect bones On absent days I will return to this place, and play a silent colour film within my head In which the pillow leaves a cold upon your face And all at once it all makes perfect sense 400 bones crumpled in bed I'm the only one who knows that you're still breathing