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A silhouette passing by in front of your eyes. |
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Someone walking through the crowd, |
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That's just her body, it's not her. |
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Just a reflection of a time that's lost. |
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Memories painted as the contours of, |
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Someone you once would have died for. |
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A sound makes it through the constant noise. |
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A voice so familiar, |
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But the words they're not the same, |
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As the ones she used to say. |
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The sentences they're not how |
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They used to be, |
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Though still as beautiful, |
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They're not meant for you. |
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So how did it feel tonight |
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As the streets became yours? |
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The streets of the city, |
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In which our stories were written. |
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So how did it feel like, |
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Your hand in someone else's hand, |
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Your features of your face, |
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On someone else's mind. |
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The breath of another as, |
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As the last sound you'll hear before sleep, |
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As the first you hear at dawn. |
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How will that feel like? |
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Will it make you feel alive? |
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There's so much pain in here, |
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There's too many, |
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Feelings, |
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Left from back when, |
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The days still left us with, |
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These little things, |
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That kept us trying. |
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There's so much pain in here, |
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There's too many, |
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Feelings, |
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Left from back when, |
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The days still left us with, |
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These little things, |
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That kept us trying. |
