Better promised parts,
Believing in our deceiving
Or hoping for some small spark
Of lingering meaning.
How should we wrestle with our pasts?
How should we cope with knowing
The sun stands still and we do all the moving?
So we shift our shoulders and avert our gazes.
We don't always get to recognize
What you and I will become.
Maybe we all just need our hearts to break,
Sometimes,
We need the ice cleared from the river.
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| Winter Ballads, vol. 1 |
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