The jewels in a treasure chest filled with a million stories.
A bird in a wired cage, she swims in a sea of silence.
The essence of the days when we were seventeen.
When broken dreams lived down the street,
But never on our door steps.
Bid my baby goodnight then drove home to mama,
With the radio on our favourite songs,
Passed the picture shows of horror.
The skies lit up in a blaze of fire,
As we sat on a silver lake.
Count the thousandth moon rising,
And watched the hundredth sun set.
When the day is through and the night is young.
We watched our tails for bed bugs.
For any songs that came along was a trace of our existence.
And in the night we closed our eyes,
Wait till all is still.
And all of this will vanish of course, it’d all be gone.
For birds never stay too long,
They always fly home in Summer.
