Footsteps by the door
They all came back for more
So laugh, again, my friend

Your pictures speak in tongues
But they won't tell anyone
The story you told to me.


The forests dream of gold
Ghosts of the prophets can't put on their own clothes

Yeah, when marching bands disperse
Kids with sad guitars are left searching for a verse


They shared a passing glance
The flame of true romance
It flickered, went out, for good

Come the winds of June
Those lazy afternoons
You watch as I wave goodbye


The bus-stop lies in snow
The warmth of pretending had left him years ago

The sun sank in the sea
Set fire to the map that led you back to me