One day, I'll find the perfect place,
On a hill with lonesome tree.
And if not but behind closed eyes,
You will be there with me.
You will write of our beauty,
With your old quill pen,
Beauty behind our dull eyes,
Of days that should've been.
Of a love that we both carried,
Yet somehow could not touch,
For fear that we would break it,
Perhaps we loved too much.
Your pen will assuage the pain,
And erase mistakes away,
On a hill with lonesome tree,
I'll one day go to stay.