while our magic that is us,
searching for a memory, our youth is lost.
while our love turns in to dust,
you'll enjoy to see me rust.
peace by peace ill come crumbling down,
as I stop hoping, you might come around.
this sound, the wind carrying me away,
to this river, to where I lay.
maybe one day you will find our photograph, and see,
what have you done,
when you lied to me.
while our magic that is us,
searching for a memory, our youth is lost.
while our love turns in to dust,
you'll enjoy to see me rust. |