Under the old oak tree we stood
Counting stars, as if we would
Be able to number them all,
As if one day the sky wouldn’t fall;
Falling in love? Maybe we could.

Tried so hard to make it good,
To make it work like we thought it should,
To ignore the pain that did befall,
Under the old oak tree.

Two leftovers, misunderstood
And we mistook the peeling wood
For a savior (from our fall);
But it was inevitable, our curtain call…
Under the old oak tree.