(no subject)
I guess that it's typical
To cling to memories you'll never get back again
And to sort through old photographs
Of a summer long ago or a friend that you used to know
And there below
His frozen face
You wrote the name and that ancient date, that ancient date
And you can't believe that he's really gone
When all that's left is a fucking song
To cling to memories you'll never get back again
And to sort through old photographs
Of a summer long ago or a friend that you used to know
And there below
His frozen face
You wrote the name and that ancient date, that ancient date
And you can't believe that he's really gone
When all that's left is a fucking song