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We were driving down furnace woods - |
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Long sleeves, striped shirts, |
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Throwing my hands out the door, |
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But all in fun. Did we kill him? |
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(Wait for the air to stop, then wake up. |
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Come Up. Hold your head in the place, |
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But shake off your thoughts) |
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I laughed so hard, glass through the air. |
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Right by his face, good thing we cared - but not at all. |
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And it was then, that I felt the breeze |
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Over my head and through my hands. |
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Are you sorry? Are you sad? |
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You're just a little bit tired. |
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You didn't even mean to leave, nothing more. |
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I won't remember what it's like to be young again. |
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I'm just a little bit tired. |
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And anyone would feel the same, |
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When you were leaving me. |
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You once wrote me a card, |
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That won't fit (in my hands). |
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And it was funny at the time, |
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But now it just stays with me. |
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And I hope you will hear when I sing this to you. |
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Keep moving on, keep moving on. |
