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someone, somewhere |
|
has my pictures of us |
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but it's ok |
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because it's hard |
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to make out details in those faded photographs |
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a picture of us sunny and true |
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faded to irrelevant blue |
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so you've found new ways |
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of keeping memory |
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in rythmn and melody |
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your songs |
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just like my songs |
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they're made up of questions |
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but if you really wanna know what i'm like |
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take a fucking look in my eyes |
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and so you keep on singing that song |
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as if nothing is wrong |
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sing as loud as you want |
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'cause soon i'll be gone |
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but its never easy no it's never easy no it's never that easy |
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not even now that i'm leaving |
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and though all of it's done yeah and all of it's closed now and all of it's gone |
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still going to stay there in your songs |
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how do old songs |
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speak in new ways |
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oh so many years on? |
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so long |
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maybe there's one |
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that we can both learn from |
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a ballad broken over the rocks |
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or a lullaby that always gets lost |
