You are very tall, almost too tall.
My neck strains to see your face.
I squint my eyes and ponder
Why there is a bench now in your place.

I look around to find you, where are you?
Sitting on the bench I wonder,
Why was I looking up at you, why didn't I walk?
What was the reason for my blunder?

What was it about your overcast shadow
That made me want to stay
I look around again, to find you
I'm not fond of the games you play

I stand up and put my hands in my coat pocket
And I run a quick hand through my hair
I feel long wiry arms encircling me
Now suddenly you are there.

A bench to a man, and a man to a bench
How are you doing this and why?
I rest my face against your chest
Then you whisper a goodbye

And I'm alone in the cold with a vast
Expanse of snow as far as I can see
Nothing but a bench to sit on
I have a feeling you won't be coming back to
Me