And the mourning dove breaks the dawn of winter’s fall.
It’s call echoes and whispers in the trees,
Rings back into my ears and touches my soul.
The touch of your skin renders my heart and makes me start to forget.
The fire we lit warmed our hearts,
But burned the forest down.

Some things we can’t forget,
Some things we can never remember
And these things that we’re fighting for
Were never there at all.
And maybe you were never really there for me at all.