I've stopped biting the hand i've been feeding, and rearranged my words and the hearts i've been needing. And though time always changes and leaves us behind, it's the warmth in this darkness that will always be mine. I wish you'd learn what to say, when your dreams run astray, or when we're talking or hitting a wall for it reaches the smallest talk of the shortest days and casts the longest shadow of the deepest fall. It's the old pen that keeps the new sadness fading and the endless years of hoping that I know i'll be saving.