The only way to hold on to this love is with an open hand.
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You told me that the first day we met. I didn't understand.
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Beneath the broad-beamed boughs, your love changed: a slow coming apart.
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You moved on and I stayed the same. I was trailing from the start.
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We laid long in the tall grass. We loved for the joy of love itself.
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We threw our pennies in the fountain and we wished for nothing else. And we wished for nothing else.
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And through the crossbeams whispers were heard: undoing in every line.
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And in the fall you flew little bird but I'll see you when it's time.
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We laid long in the tall grass. We loved for the joy of love itself.
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We threw our pennies in the fountain and we wished for nothing else. And we wished for nothing else.
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We laid long in the tall grass. We loved for the joy of love itself.
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We suffered heartache after heartache but we wished for nothing else. We wished for nothing else.
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Pennies In The Fountain
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| Glen Hansard |
