Whoa, I hear the quiet now,
Of paper airplanes falling down,
Whoa, the branches of every tree,
Bend like a cathedral over me,
Down where the river bends,
everyone's waiting,
But that's not the reason I'm making these tracks in the snow,
There's a box in my hands as I go,
Wrapped up in scarlet and gold,
For you,
Whoa, there's a choir upon the wind,
Singing old familiar hymns,
And my ears they're playing tricks on me,
I can almost hear harmony,
Down where the river bends, that's where you're waiting,
You are the reason I'm making these tracks in the snow,
There's a box in my hands as I go,
Wrapped up in scarlet and gold,
For you (x2),
Down where the river bends,
nobody's waiting,
But there's still a reason for making these tracks in the snow,
Down at the end of the road,
I'll clear a place in the snow,
Leave this box wrapped in scarlet and gold,
For you (x2).