The winter rain is icy tonight.
It bursts on the glass of the
windows we pass by.
We make footsteps in the rain
as we recall of the pain
we felt on Desolate Road.
Where you can tell me you love me
and I’ll say why you lie.
Where the winter rain
is fog and mirrors to eyes
eclipsing the sun and
reflecting the woes
we lost and found on Desolate Road.
The winter rain is icy tonight.
It freezes the hands of the
crowds we walk by.
We make shadows in the sleet,
indistinct shades in the street
we all know as Desolate Road.
Where you can tell me you miss me
and I’ll say why you’re right.
Where the winter rain
is faintly evolving to white,
so many times;
oh so often it snows
when I’m wandering down desolate roads.