She took away the painted ponies from my carousel,
and the stars that shone above.
She took away the fantasies and fairy tales,
she took away the songs of love.

She left me on an island made of memories,
taste and touch and scent and sound.
Four-thousand, six-hundred some odd yesterdays,
to be some lover's hand me down.

Autumn leaves falling on a rainy day.
No marching band, no circus tents.
She took away the joy of spontaneity,
and left behind a lack of confidence.

Four-thousand, six-hundred some odd yesterdays,
sacred words, golden rings.
Girl in white, a man is blue,
because you took too many things.

And if you listen you can hear my heart a healing.
Running, changing, growing, dreaming, spinning, reeling.
Talking to the wind.
Waiting for a friend
to dance with me until the end comes stealing,
comes stealing.