The songs spill out like ashes
Of a memory that is dead,
And I give in to gentle voices
That collide inside my head.

So I'm tuning out the melodies,
And wishing you were here.
You wouldn't let me get so caught up
In the words that scream sincere.

So just meet me in the moonlight
When the grass is painted gray
And lay with me in silence;
We'll forget all we could say.

And ignore the growing questions
That we fed with flavored lines.
Well, the nights that come between us
Are but flowers on the vine.

We'll collect all of the petals
And push the rest away in rage
And scatter them like poetry
Cross the empty page.

Instead of bleeding with confusion
We'd succeed in warping time,
So that past could meet the present,
And the stars would all align.

So that wishes could be granted
And regrets would melt away,
While a laughter that was pressing
Led the ruefulness astray.