beyond the bleeding man that marred my way;
instead, you stood across the gulf and stared,
knowing the sun would tumble from our day --
how long I stood there, heart held in my hand,
hoping some god would help me understand.
But now the years have passed, and our lost song
is caught between each look we ever shared,
a monument to what in time went wrong,
with little proof to show how we once cared:
and so we must accept what cannot be,
and set past sorrows' dreams forever free.