| We were driving down furnace woods —
|
| Long sleeves, striped shirts
|
| Throwing my hands out the door
|
| But all in fun. |
| Did we kill him?
|
| (Wait for the air to stop, then wake up
|
| Come Up. |
| Hold your head in the place
|
| But shake off your thoughts)
|
| I laughed so hard, glass through the air
|
| Right by his face, good thing we cared — but not at all
|
| And it was then, that I felt the breeze
|
| Over my head and through my hands
|
| Are you sorry? |
| Are you sad?
|
| You’re just a little bit tired
|
| You didn’t even mean to leave, nothing more
|
| I won’t remember what it’s like to be young again
|
| I’m just a little bit tired
|
| And anyone would feel the same
|
| When you were leaving me
|
| You once wrote me a card
|
| That won’t fit (in my hands)
|
| And it was funny at the time
|
| But now it just stays with me
|
| And I hope you will hear when I sing this to you
|
| Keep moving on, keep moving on |