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