There's a bakery at the end of this dead-end street
It has lots of pastries with nothing to eat
I'm hungry so I hold your hand from across the miles
In your distant touch I feel a peace and start to smile
(a missing piece, more missed than missing now)
Let’s turn this dead-end to a through-street somehow
Even pouring concrete is romantic I’ve found
when done together with you…

Decades passed, in review:
I was happy on that journey, now sorry it’s through.
I miss being best friends with you.