[Strophe]
                   Am 
Black flies on the windowsill 
  
That we are 
  
That we are 
               F 
That we are to know 
                      Am 
Winter stole summer's thrill 
                 F 
And the river's cracked and cold  
                Am 
See the sky is no man's land 
            F 
A darkened plume to stay 
                  Am 
Hope here needs a humble hand 
                            F 
Not a fox found in your place
[Refrain]
Am           G                 F 
No man is an island, this I know 
  
But can't you see? 
Am                   G                       F 
Maybe you were the ocean when I was just a stone
[Strophe]
                    Am 
Black flies on the windowsill 
  
That we are 
  
That we are 
                F 
That we are to hold 
              Am 
Comfort came against my will 
               F 
And every story must grow old  
                Am 
Still I'll be a traveller 
           F 
A gypsy's reins to face 
                Am 
But the road is wearier 
              F 
With that fool found in your place
[Refrain]
Am           G                 F 
No man is an island, this I know 
  
But can't you see? 
Am                   G                       F 
Maybe you were the ocean when I was just a stone  
  
So here we are