A secondhand red sweater on the back of chair
The only thing to remind me of the times you sat there
And I've been meaning to remove it for the past several days
But there's so many things to remember.
There were a few short minutes when I thought to myself
While you were standing boiling water, lost in some thought
That we could really dig in and make this go someplace else
But there are so many things you can do in a day.
Where does it go? It's just another afternoon
With our backs on the wood. Where does it go?
I've got the awfullest feeling something is going by so good.
