And the music
Haunts me like
Your unopened letters
Staring at them
Wondering what’s inside
But these things
Aren’t like presents
More like coffins
For what’s inside
Is now dead
A poor resemblance
Of the bouquet
We once were
And the music
Haunts me like
Your unopened letters
Staring at them
Wondering what’s inside
But these things
Aren’t like presents
More like coffins
For what’s inside
Is now dead
A poor resemblance
Of the bouquet
We once were