where are the melodies that use to make my heart sing
where are the sweet nothings that use to fall upon my ear
and where is the roaring thunder that I use to hear
where is the present of god that I use to feel near
where is the shimmering moon, the flowers and perfume
whatever happen to those glorious afternoons,
where the sun set, and the ocean crawl,
and the amazing way the tree leaves use to fall,
what happen to the beauty of it all
what happen to the long walks, and the small talk,
and the way we use to look in each-other eyes
so full of love and butterflies
where did the summer go
cause your heart feels so cold
how long have you been blind
or is it that you just choose not to see
that there's something wrong between you and me