A lighthouse without light
Behind a window
A neighborhood without a south
With only one house
I passed by the beach running early this morning
And I took a photo of the sea before you leave
Two thousand hours
A mirror in the middle of nowhere
A chair half abandoned
Where I used to sit and cut out memories
Two thousand hours
A route without scenery beside
A garden around a lake
Where we kicked off all our shoes
Two thousand hours
Outside
The cold burns me
My bed
Says it awaits you
Not seeing you
That’s the sentence
I want to tell you
That nothing’s the same
Since you asked me to move south
And now how do I rid myself of this blue?
And how do I ask the sun to watch over me tomorrow?
And how do I grow two flowers before you leave?
Two thousand hours
A mirror in the middle of nowhere
A chair half abandoned
Where I used to sit and cut out memories
Two thousand hours
A route without scenery beside
A garden around a lake
Where we kicked off all our shoes
They’re two thousand hours
That won’t be returned
I want to go back to that sunday
I want to get to know you again
They’re two thousand hours
That won’t be returned
I want to go back to that sunday
I want to get to know you again
Two thousand hours
A mirror in the middle of nowhere
A chair half abandoned
Where I used to sit and cut out memories
Two thousand hours
A route without scenery beside
A garden around a lake
Where we kicked off all our shoes
Two thousand hours