A secondhand red sweater on the back of chair The only thing to remind me of the times you sat there And I've been meaning to remove it for the past several days But there's so many things to remember.
There were a few short minutes when I thought to myself While you were standing boiling water, lost in some thought That we could really dig in and make this go someplace else But there are so many things you can do in a day.
Where does it go? It's just another afternoon With our backs on the wood. Where does it go? I've got the awfullest feeling something is going by so good.
