​I heard your voice the other day,
It seemed lost somewhere among the cold;
With the begging for you to stay,
We became bitter and old
I saw your face in the papers,
Headlined “Lost, Heartbroken and Used”;
With the machines, you’re now one of the makers,
We came too far be this confused
I knew your name before,
It seemed like a daydream, but swiftly it became a nightmare;
With the gears in the clock, we timed well on the floor,
We fell apart whoever we were there
Stolen,
The bitter crisp air on a fall evening,
The hearts that break over paths of fallen leaves
Stolen,
The cold wind rushing through, and where we find warm jackets still won’t warm you,
The snow crushing boots you used to wear
Stolen,
The springs flowers that would look to the sky,
The rain we used to run and hide in
Stolen,
The rushing tides through our feet,
The heat of finding out we were somewhere new
And still, somehow,
I won’t ever find you