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went to the park, wearing your sweaterdancing over fields of moldi went chasing the treesthe wind stole your letterwondering if it was meant to be writtenwhere do we go? where do we go from here?outside your door, standing in rainshould i give this to you?i went back to the park, ripped up the letterand watched it swim through the sewerwhere do we end up?with the days growing shorterconvincing myself that this isn't overthe symptoms are showing that this diagnosis is sad, but truewhere do we go? where do we go from here? From Letras Mania