Piano Magic Echoes On Ice
I have letters from you that you wrote in your sleep/A
map of your heart and a plan of your street/And echoes on
ice on a blue Winter night from the spokes of your bike
in sub-farenheit/The fox makes a sound like my heart on
the backs where they've laid out the traps/Planes filter
back through the night, making light work of
constellations and maps/My opencast heart rewinds back to
the start and plays us again, should we ever part
