The wind stole color from the trees
|
With a burst of October air.
|
It's tearing out the roots,
|
What's left has falling apart.
|
How the branches used to sway.
|
They were singing songs of beauty.
|
But you heard nothing just deafening screams.
|
And I still miss those nights
|
When we ran beneath the playground lights
|
The sparks lit up our eyes.
|
But I will not forget how we threw caution at the wind.
|
The sparks will never die.
|
Why do these moments filled with happiness
|
Make me feel so hollowed out?
|
But the rain is pouring down against my windshield
|
And the outside air it's trying to get in again.
|
So I'll keep driving all around this town
|
Singing our old songs I can't seem to let go.
|
(When will I let it go?)
|
The rain is pouring down against my windshield
|
And the outside air is trying to get in again.
|
I'll keep driving around this town,
|
Singing our old songs again.
|
|
-----------------
|
Parking Lot Nights
|
| Transit |
