With the fireplace getting low
We were used to it
So used to letting go

On your flight back, to Minneapolis
Walking with the clouds
All we do is reminisce

We could awake
Finally fold, or face it

We could awake
Like digging for gold, am I made to break
Or face it
Or face it

Under street lights, heart-shadows cast
We were used to it
So used to drowning past

And if I fell asleep and let the patterns dry
I would forget it clean
Stained glass and steady flight

We could awake
Finally fold, or face it

We could awake
Like digging for gold, am I made to break?
Or face it
Or face it

We could awake
Like digging for gold, am I made to break?