It started slowly, as these things often do
A taste of winter in the air
The weight of memory falls gently on my shoulder
All the history we share

Ch:
I see the words; they are written in the sky
But they don’t apply to me
It may be foolish, but I think I’m going to try
I’m fighting ghosts and gravity

And on a Tuesday near the closing of the year
There will be nothing left to say
And you will see me if you happen to be near
But I’ll just smile and turn away