I lye awake perfectly still, watching the clouds roll past the window sill,

The cool breeze seems to creep swiftly upon my cheek,

As I dream of the days where I held your hand and of the days where we were able to speak.

Their hasn’t been to many days where I’ve dwelt in my past mistakes,

And their hasn’t been too many days where I thought about us and I promised that I’d never let another one like you slip away.