| As processions fade
|
| New hearts doubt
|
| But you are Golden and no one questions it
|
| But who you fake and how you sound
|
| Asks the best of men
|
| To share your sentiment
|
| I want to be the one to help you find those years
|
| That you’ve been talking about
|
| Dreaming of the South
|
| And all those lost goodbyes
|
| And all those lonely tears
|
| You never got to cry
|
| It never works out right
|
| Unless you’re one to follow
|
| Where the silence takes too long
|
| When the night falls--when the night falls oh so slow
|
| And caution isn’t ours
|
| When the night falls--when the night falls oh so low
|
| We may lose control
|
| I want to be the one to help you find those years
|
| That you’ve been talking about
|
| Dreaming of the South
|
| And all those lonely nights
|
| And all those lost goodbyes
|
| You never got to sigh
|
| I want to be the one to help you find those dreams
|
| Because you’ve been hanging around
|
| Talking about the South
|
| And all those balmy nights
|
| And all those lonely songs
|
| You never got to write
|
| And I’ll hold your hand as I walk you through the door
|
| And I’ll hold your hand as I walk you through that door
|
| And I’ll hold your hand as I walk you through that door
|
| And I’ll hold your hand as you held my hand as I walk you through that door
|
| And I’ll hold your hand as you held my hand as I walk you through that door
|
| And I’ll hold your hand as you held my hand as I walk you through that door |