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?