...

every thought i think
every word i say
is snatched up by the wind
and floats away
we could drive far from this place
and no one would ever know
saying goodbye to you, my dear
seems like a crime to me
"surely not"
the phrase of the week
it plays in the record of my mind
as evidance of my disbelief
and still i see you in my head
and i do believe you'll never leave
we'll do all those things we said we'd do
but never seemed to get around to