Looks like a mild winter,

although the streets are cold,

the streets are always cold.

Burning tires pass us by

like they can't wait to be somewhere new.



It was a riotous summer.

Thunderheads hot like a fever

on my sunburnt brow.

When I took that vow, I thought,

this must be somewhere new.



Glory fades like the last rays

of the last sun on the last day

in a lost town.

When a month goes by without you

I think of thunderheads

and young souls

on an old ground.

And maybe time will test you

until the rains wash you

down

down

down.

Or maybe you'll stand and bow.



Across Ohio she's writing reflections.

I can see my own reflection, as I stand

to leave the room.

How can I stand who I've become,

when my past isn't kind?



I've got this fear about living,

'cause it comes with dying.

I am dying to be good to her

in the time I have, my God,

what will we do with all this time?



Passion fades like the last rays

of the last sun on the last day

on an old ground.

When a month goes by without her

I think of ice cream on a gray day

in a cold town.

And maybe time will test us

until the rains wash us

down

down

down.

Or maybe we'll stand and bow.



I'm watching the haze

of the last rays of an old sun

fading to brown.

When a month goes by, I question.

Was it real? Or did I miss

what I should have found?

Time can make us all

a little stronger, if we break the walls

that cause us not to see round.

And we turn to face what's now.

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