Paper Boats.

The rain falls down, swallowed by the ground. And it's the same drip, the same lonely sound.

I taste the wet air, spreading in my chest. Clean the debris, leave nothing left.

And I remember playing, on the river’s edge. Fall down, wet bodies, floating heads.

Cold days skimming stones. Warm hands, still my shaking bones.

Cut short your blue...Winter's song.

Because these paper boats...Don't float for too long.

Whisper to me darling, how the story ends. Leave me your words, my charming friend.

Nothing lasts forever, so they all said. Torn pages, book's half read.

The seasons change, the wildflowers bloom. Same scent, untouched perfume.

But the future comes around, pictures fade. Scattered different ways, no place to evade.

Cut short your blue...Winter's song.

Because these paper boats...Don't float for too long.

When I think about it, bittersweet sight. It's like bright lights, clear skies
at night.

But the future came around, the river froze. White box, green grass, black clothes.

Rest your head on my, frail immature bones. But that skinny quiet boy, now he's all grown.

You know, the memories of you, set like stone. Warm in the sunshine, cold against cool winds blown.

Unfinished your blue...winter's song.

Because these paper boats...Don't float for too long.