I must've died a thousand times before I somehow came to find
A boy who knew the same as I
that we belonged inside the sky
And so the days would wander by
We'd gotten close, not asking why
For it was truth that made us fly
Until the middle of July
.
.
.
Our story ceased to carry on
Released our hands and we were gone
Direction put him down upon
The very carriage he had drawn
My voice was harsh, he heard it wrong
I said too much, a denouement
But save the chance he comes along I'll keep my voice to sing our song