If I could take a walk with you,
I'd show you the restless squirrels, capering and tumbling.
And the trees, leaves just starting to lose luster.
And the pain the ground bares.
And the pain I bare.
If I could take a walk with you,
I'd declare my love for you.
And we'd see the houses, ornate and regal.
Underneath the facade, silence.
I'd take you to the lake, where the fish jump and the children run to their mothers, wet and cold.
And when we turned the bend, my hand would brush over yours.
Or yours over mine.
Yet, the leaves blow away, as does this moment, this smile, these dreams.
If I could take a walk with you,
We could even sail the ocean, crystal blue, and land somewhere new.
A boat, ridding the waves of our sweet harmony, would take us there.
Then, explore, discover.
Together.
If I could take a walk with you,
I'd tell you about my dreams.
Where I want to go, where I've been, and who I am.
It would be nice if you'd do the same.
If I could take a walk with you,
I'd listen to what you have to say.
I wouldn't interrupt.
I would smile at the times you enjoyed.
I would tear at your sorrow, laugh at your humor.
If I could take a walk with you,
we would sit on a bench, and the sunset would be perfect.
Like us, lavender clouds would interlace fingers with crimson sky.
And the coffee would never get cold.
And the conversion would be abounding.
If I could take a walk with you,
I'd show you my scars, both in and out.
And I'd hope you'd hold me tight.
And when the day is done, and the sun has faded, we never thought it would,
And when I stop and my feet land on the ground, just as they always have before,
I will have taken a walk with you.
So, tomorrow, when you go walking with someone else,
it makes me wonder.
It makes me melancholy.
It makes me sad.
The people we could be...
I'm sure you'll be happy, married with kids, a house, a job, a life.
And I'll hold you a very special spot in my heart.
Not that of what you used to be, but a friend.
And I'll hear all the stories of your spouse, and your job.
I'll swallow all my bitterness, all my sorrow.
For I wouldn't burden you, my love, with that.
But burden me.
At least I can be close to you.
So if your coffee ever gets cold,
just know;
I'd love to take a walk with you.
I'd show you the restless squirrels, capering and tumbling.
And the trees, leaves just starting to lose luster.
And the pain the ground bares.
And the pain I bare.
If I could take a walk with you,
I'd declare my love for you.
And we'd see the houses, ornate and regal.
Underneath the facade, silence.
I'd take you to the lake, where the fish jump and the children run to their mothers, wet and cold.
And when we turned the bend, my hand would brush over yours.
Or yours over mine.
Yet, the leaves blow away, as does this moment, this smile, these dreams.
If I could take a walk with you,
We could even sail the ocean, crystal blue, and land somewhere new.
A boat, ridding the waves of our sweet harmony, would take us there.
Then, explore, discover.
Together.
If I could take a walk with you,
I'd tell you about my dreams.
Where I want to go, where I've been, and who I am.
It would be nice if you'd do the same.
If I could take a walk with you,
I'd listen to what you have to say.
I wouldn't interrupt.
I would smile at the times you enjoyed.
I would tear at your sorrow, laugh at your humor.
If I could take a walk with you,
we would sit on a bench, and the sunset would be perfect.
Like us, lavender clouds would interlace fingers with crimson sky.
And the coffee would never get cold.
And the conversion would be abounding.
If I could take a walk with you,
I'd show you my scars, both in and out.
And I'd hope you'd hold me tight.
And when the day is done, and the sun has faded, we never thought it would,
And when I stop and my feet land on the ground, just as they always have before,
I will have taken a walk with you.
So, tomorrow, when you go walking with someone else,
it makes me wonder.
It makes me melancholy.
It makes me sad.
The people we could be...
I'm sure you'll be happy, married with kids, a house, a job, a life.
And I'll hold you a very special spot in my heart.
Not that of what you used to be, but a friend.
And I'll hear all the stories of your spouse, and your job.
I'll swallow all my bitterness, all my sorrow.
For I wouldn't burden you, my love, with that.
But burden me.
At least I can be close to you.
So if your coffee ever gets cold,
just know;
I'd love to take a walk with you.
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