We've travelled to
the ends of the world,
so what's left now?
We're just wandering dust,
and the kiss you left
on my forehead when we left
was such bittersweet love,
oh love, I loved, I cried, I lied…
and it's just a simple memory—
just a fleeting moment, but don't
fly too soon, young love, don't
close your eyes and let the wind
take you to a place you know
you can't survive.
And we had a blank canvas, but we
painted it with so much grey,
so little light, too much hatred we had inside;
you couldn't pull through, we loved for real,
but you thought that love's just funny,
so you sigh to ask over and over,
"why doesn't love have wings, too?"