Golden crops turned to squares of hay,
Fresh green plants dance in the wind.
The holes they dug by the side of the rail
Are now being filled.
All the little things are missing you.

The announcer calls like he does everyday,
Red doors close behind me as I take a sit.
Staring out the window, the sun is out,
This is where we used to meet.
All the little things are missing you.

The road seems somehow longer,
People claim nothing has changed.
They don't look, they don't see,
That all the little things are missing you.

The touch of your gentle bristles,
Our quiet shy private smile,
The brown sparkles in your eyes,
The gnawing silences teaches me still,
All the little things are missing you.

Another stop, another ride,
To and fro remain the same,
Starting out the window, it's raining now,
The road is changing, for you but not for me.
All the little things are missing you.

The road seems somehow longer,
People claim nothing ever changes.
But I look, and I see,
That all the little things are missing you.