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The birds on the telephone wires
Look just like crotchets and quavers.
The evening's about to arrive
And I'm afraid there is nothing will save us.
Now I know what it's like
To be cut down to size
And everything's finally clear
And I had honestly no idea.
I'm sorry for all that I've done
And for all of the things that I should have.
I let everything come undone
And I didn't patch it up when I could have.
Now when the sadness subsides
There's a hole left inside
And outside I can hear the birds call
As the snow starts to silently fall.
Now it's cold and quiet at home
But I hope that it's warmer where you are.
You can get used to being alone
It's forgetting that seems to be so hard.
Would you recognise me
If we passed on the street?
Will you think of me now and then
When the weather turns warm again?