i cannot make much, but i will build you a castle made out of sand, we can hide until the tides sweep us back into sea

i cannot give much, but eternal dedication in the form of sloppy words, we can burn them to keep warm in the long lonesome night

i can do both at once, i will write with a shovel in the wet sands, a new verse for every high tide to take to the bottom of the ocean

let poseidon read of your perfection, send horses of sea foam to witness your beauty, let the gods themselves weep

i cannot do much, but when it comes to loving you, i could recite a reason for every grain of sand on the beach on which we lay