A hand pressed against the glass
Is it her coming back at last?
Wet footprints in the hall
Voices in my room keep me awake

Drops of rain make my soul rust
The hall is long
Memory formed dust
The voice is too distant to understand
Is it her coming back at last?

A cold hand pressed against my neck
Whispers in my ears
These trains running
Through my dreams
Make it hard to understand

The voices in my room are laughing
But I can clearly hear
The pain between the laughs
It seems she’s coming back at last

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