Doorstep arrivals are such a thing of haste
I was a last minute thought, nothing has changed
That little niece is about to be eighteen
She can count on her hand how much she has seen
Of you... My saddest truth
That doorstep never knew you again
That one Christmas note, it was your sin
I was delighted to get a letter from a stranger
But you never did write back again.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
Doorstep arrivals are such a thing of haste
I was a last minute thought, nothing has changed
That little niece is about to be eighteen
She can count on her hand how much she has seen
Of you... My saddest truth
That doorstep never knew you again
That one Christmas note, it was your sin
I was delighted to get a letter from a stranger
But you never did write back again.
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