Memory:
Memory:
I found an old leather jacket in my trunk.
It makes me think of yesterday that's been months ago.
My fingers run over it. It feels strong and secure.
How I miss the summer evenings we spend together on the top of bales of straw. Singing to the moon, talking 'bout the ways that we're to walk, waiting for us somewhere down there in the valley, still hidden in the dust of future, counting the falling stars without thinking 'bout the troubles of tomorrow.
I found my old leather jacket in the ancient trunk.
The smell of fields and freedom, alcohol and laughter, wind and philosophies still lingers on its skin.
A smell of summer, so strong that it eases all the pain of winter.
mix
I found an old leather jacket in my trunk.
It makes me think of yesterday that's been months ago.
My fingers run over it. It feels strong and secure.
How I miss the summer evenings we spend together on the top of bales of straw. Singing to the moon, talking 'bout the ways that we're to walk, waiting for us somewhere down there in the valley, still hidden in the dust of future, counting the falling stars without thinking 'bout the troubles of tomorrow.
I found my old leather jacket in the ancient trunk.
The smell of fields and freedom, alcohol and laughter, wind and philosophies still lingers on its skin.
A smell of summer, so strong that it eases all the pain of winter.
mix