Morning Breaks by Craig Armstrong
This time of year always brings me back to you,
But of course, so does the summer.
Not knowing how you are,
Not knowing where you're at.
I wish you'd given me a clue, some sign,
Sometimes I try to read within the lines.
How did we come to drift away,
Talking less, breathing stress.
We've changed and it just seems...
I've lost you on the way.
When will I learn?
By Alice Karayiannis
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