“Promise” by Ben Howard

And meet me there,
bundles of flowers,
we wait through the hours of cold
Winter shall howl at the walls, tearing down doors of time
Shelter as we go
And promise me this; you’ll wait for me only, scared of the lonely arms
Surface, far below these words
Maybe, just maybe I’ll come home
Who am I, darling to you?
Who am I?
Going to tell you stories of mine
Who am I?

(Source: tylerknott)