The air is filled with snow-flakes
They ride wildly on the wind
In the never-ending grey
In the never-ending grey
I strained my ears to hear your voice
To see your face
But you were gone, really
so many years ago
I don't really know how to call your name anymore
would it be meaningless to call you
just to say hello and goodbye again?
Meaningless to call you
just to say I wish you well and then leave?
Yeah, I guess
In the never-ending grey
the thick grey is sometimes interrupted
by a rogue ray of sun that
sharply
violently
cuts through the mist
temporarily it halts my feelings of displacement and loss
But I still have to say
and forgive me if I'm not making any sense
or if I'm stuttering:
Sometimes
it would be good to bring something
someone
familiar into the great unknown
while I enter new territories, new challenges that I fear I'll drown in
It would be good if someone who knew me would metaphorically hold my hand sometimes
Or at least say hello again, goodbye again
and that they'd wish me well
Yes, sometimes I long for you
In the never-ending grey
The air is filled with snowflakes
Completely out of season
They melt in the mild wind
And reach my skin with a kiss
But I am not listening after your voice
I am not looking after your face in a crowd
and I wont call you
to say hello and goodbye
or that I wish you well
I wont bother you with these half-hearted emotions anymore