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It's been countless days, since last we wrote |
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And countless more, since last we spoke |
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But now that's all that remains |
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The letters that make up your name |
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And I used to see every line that crossed |
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Your face, but now the lines are lost |
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In stories told and I've grown old |
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Let me read again the letters that you sent |
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Caroline wrote to me |
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Every day of that July |
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But now that's all I have left |
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Just thirty-one pages of Caroline |
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I waited all that time for you |
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To write me back, to write a new |
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Verse of our love but it never came |
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Just hoped my Caroline was safe |
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And just as I had always feared |
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Your precious words they disappeared |
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In to my mind as I went blind |
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Let me read again the letters that you sent, |
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Caroline wrote to me |
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Every day of that July |
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But now that's all I have left |
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Just thirty-one pages of Caroline |
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To pick them up might cut my hands, |
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And blind me. |
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To pick them up might cut my hands, |
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And blind me. |
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Let me read again the letters that she sent. |
