To all those memories; those intracies,
i call to you in little drops, every dot.
In new embraces i let go,
the hold once you, becomes hers
To all those memories, those intracies,
tumble the way, branches crack
and snag...
the odd cut, the scratch, the brush,
i remember comfier shoes,
softer ground.
But to all those memories,
those intracies,
do not feel so warm,
do not feel so warm,
i once could of sworn,
i remember comfier shoes.
