We were driving down furnace woods -
Long sleeves, striped shirts,
Throwing my hands out the door,
But all in fun. Did we kill him?
(Wait for the air to stop, then wake up.
Come Up. Hold your head in the place,
But shake off your thoughts)
I laughed so hard, glass through the air.
Right by his face, good thing we cared - but not at all.
And it was then, that I felt the breeze
Over my head and through my hands.
Are you sorry? Are you sad?
You're just a little bit tired.
You didn't even mean to leave, nothing more.
I won't remember what it's like to be young again.
I'm just a little bit tired.
And anyone would feel the same,
When you were leaving me.
You once wrote me a card,
That won't fit (in my hands).
And it was funny at the time,
But now it just stays with me.
And I hope you will hear when I sing this to you.
Keep moving on, keep moving on.
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