August Again - IDA

Pulling back the rain is wet

We’re still inside it all

And what’s yours in the morning

By the night it all could be gone

You sound so good to me

And I have to say

I’m glad it wasn’t me

Who had to walk away

Memory is heavy when you have to write

The pictures that are scattered

They swell up in your eyes

And how much becomes yours

What can you throw away

All this it matters on moving day

Sweeping out from under the bed

Afraid of what you’ll find

Looking out windows for the last time

See past that face in front of you

And lift your head

Leave the saddest room