Bright are the pictures kept in my mind
The canvas of something once left behind
And I still remember the tilt of the earth
Bloom of the {?} sweat on your shirt
But places change there is no returning home
Tried to be something I couldn’t be
Seven years later caught up to me
And death doesn’t care about anyone’s plans
When you last spoke or how soft you land
The days push forward there is no returning homе once you go
Nights of silver, days of gold
All thesе faces I used to know
Signs of all the shops that changed
Drift apart and turning away
I was wrong about the way the words would fall out of my mouth
Signal to turn after waking in the street
The kids dozing off in the back seat
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