The air is warming up again
The summer sounds are like old friends
I see the sunlight through the trees
I wonder if the sun can see me?
I hear the echoes of those days
Reflecting back at me in waves
Carved into benches I’ll remain
With names I’ll never say again

Like children’s handprints in old concrete
The things we leave behind
Slowly lose their meaning
When paths get hard to find

Handprints in old concrete
Ghosts we leave behind
Fingers with no feeling
The world I leave behind

The air is warming up again
The summer sounds are like old friends
I feel the sunlight through the trees