It suddenly occurred to me that I've been writing all the wrong songs for years,
but by the time I finally found the words, they all had slipped away.
I've planned my time making decisions on where to go,
but never gave much thought into reasons why to stay.

Seasons passed and we all grew into new shoes.
We shed the skin which kept us warm,
and didn't realize what else we would lose.

Years of holding time inside.
Our heavy hearts still hold the key,
to the box of silent secrets;
things to always remain a mystery.