Sounds Like Sunday

Time doesn't always heal
It just breathes and swallows memories

Like the seasons change
Sending showers beating flowers
Into the mud

How blessed we are
For crying now,
For we will laugh someday..and how.
(back vocal simultâneo): nothing is forever in this place,
Nothing but the way my heart fits in your hands,
The held breath of hope
And the sweet lingering taste of grace.