Josh Pyke
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If I could bottle up the sea breeze I would take it over to your house
And pour it loose through your garden
So the hinges on your windows would rust and colour
Like the boats pulled up on the sand for the summer
And your sweet clean clothes would go stiff on the line
And there’d be sand in your pockets and nothing on your mind

But every year it gets a little bit harder
To get back to the feeling of when we were fifteen
And we could jump in the river upstream
And let the current carry us to the beginning where
The river met the sea again
And all our days were a sun-drenched haze
While the salt spray crusted on the window panes

We should be living like we lived that summer
I wanna live like we live in the summer

And I’ll remember that summer as the right one
The storms made the pavement steam like a kettle
And our first goodbye always seemed like hours
In the car park in between my house and yours
And if the summer holds a song we might sing forever
Then the winter holds a bite we’d never felt before

But time is like the ocean
You can only hold a little in your hands
So swim before we’re broken
Before our bones become
Black coral on the sand


Mirror lyrics:

Black coral on the sand
Before our bones become
So swim before we’re broken
You can only hold a little in your hands
But time is like the ocean

Then the winter holds a bite we’d never felt before
And if the summer holds a song we might sing forever
In the car park in between my house and yours
And our first goodbye always seemed like hours
The storms made the pavement steam like a kettle
And I’ll remember that summer as the right one

I wanna live like we live in the summer
We should be living like we lived that summer

While the salt spray crusted on the window panes
And all our days were a sun-drenched haze
The river met the sea again
And let the current carry us to the beginning where
And we could jump in the river upstream
To get back to the feeling of when we were fifteen
But every year it gets a little bit harder

And there’d be sand in your pockets and nothing on your mind
And your sweet clean clothes would go stiff on the line
Like the boats pulled up on the sand for the summer
So the hinges on your windows would rust and colour
And pour it loose through your garden
If I could bottle up the sea breeze I would take it over to your house


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