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Tell me this isn't true
Is this really the end?
And as all the leaves rustle above us,
And as all the dirt covers our skin,
Rest your head onto my chest,
I'll tell you stories of the life we could have had.

We danced bare-footed in the grass,
We read big heavy books and we would smile,
Our only drug was love,
And boy did we get high of how we smoked each other up.

And as all the leaves rustle above us,
And as all the dark covers our skin,
Rest your head onto my chest,
I'll tell you stories of the life we could have had.

My love my one true friend,
Is this really the end?
We worked hard and we made lots of money
And when we had enough to be happy we gave the rest away,
we didn't complain much, we were good with what we had,
How we were happy.

And as all the leaves rustle above us,
And as all the cold buries our bones,
Rest your head onto my chest,
I'll tell you stories of the life we could have had.

We traveled to lands and then we owned,
Found ourselves a boat and sailed into the sun,
How we were happy
In the life we could have had.

Rest your head onto my chest
I'll tell you stories of the dream we could have lived,
Of the places we could have seen,
Of the things we could have done,
Of the people we could have been.

Now if every word is a whisper,
And if every sound is a song,
And as all the leaves rustle above us
There's no moving on,
This is the end.

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