Descrizione
Description
Two people part. Years pass. Each becomes someone the other will never know.
A bare nylon guitar, a quiet voice, and one wounded violin.
Two people part. Years pass. Each becomes someone the other will never know.
A bare nylon guitar, a quiet voice, and one wounded violin.
Lyrics
You left your cup
on the wooden rail.
Salt on the glass,
sand in the nail.
The sun went down
like it owed us nothing.
I kept my coat.
You kept becoming.
No final scene.
No sacred blame.
Just two old shadows
losing a name.
You’ll change your laugh.
I’ll change my eyes.
Some little truths
will learn to die.
All of me
was here somehow.
All of me,
but not for now.
And you’ll never know
who I became.
I’ll never know
who wore your name.
There’s a bench behind
the evening shore.
One empty space.
Then one space more.
I won’t ask the wind
where you have gone.
Some doors stay closed
and still go on.
All of me
was almost known.