Confessions
Retrace your steps
Woodsman, captain
Tell us what's left
It's a miracle
We are still talking.

Second hand flowers
Means nothing to you
But the earth to me
I'll let you know
When I let them go
Let your finger do the walking.

Sometimes you can't have
What you want
And sorries won't make you
Not cry
So what is the point?

At least the weather
Knows how to feel
Not sure what day it is
I guess I'll remember
What I missed tomorrow.