Grass fought through the snow.
Just like the rest, it grew to
grow. And somewhere, on some
doorstep, a few curious knocks
filled an empty house.
I left a note, and I hope you found
it my old friend.
Alone I headed through with all I
ever had an all I knew. And as I
walked along, the wind through the
leaves in the tress built like a song.
And I like to sing, so I sang along.
Banging on a kettle drum an army's
gone a war was won, and we could
talk for hours or even not at all.
Once I ached for something,
something good and whole and true
and all my own. Didn't I tell you, if
I could find it, I'd leave a note?
I left a note.
