Bea and Bill

Morning at the bay
I wonder if she used to see it this way
Sunlight peeking through the grey
I wonder lots of things I'll never know about her
Did she count her final hours
Wishing I was there

And on a Saturday night
High as a kite walking slow
I feel her leave
And I miss lots of things
Like carrot cake and bourbon on the rocks
The tune of the grandfather clock

On the kind of day where every hour
Feels as if its any hour
And William puts the TV on
To feel like maybe Bea's not gone
And I'll quit lying just as soon
As everyone who's in this room
Quits crying
Like there's nothing else to do

Morning at the pier
I wonder if she knows I'm here
A busker plays a tune I've heard
The fishermen won't say a word
Bea once told me of the time
That the bay froze up for miles and miles
Bill's boat got stuck out by the pier
He sold the boat not far from here

And on a Saturday night
Beneath the light of your old home
I have to leave
Nothing's real to me
Like missing you
And missing everything
Hearing your clocks hum and sing

On the kind of day where every hour
Feels as if its any hour
And William puts the TV on
To feel like maybe Bea's not gone
And I'll quit lying just as soon
As everyone who's in this room
Quits crying
Like there's nothing else to do



Credits
Writer(s): Lizzie Wilson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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