From the recording Wandering
Lyrics
The day is old, my story told, in old familiar ways.
But no one keeps the hours now, and no one keeps the days.
Waiting, wondering, endless dreaming.
Open, hoping, for our time.
Am I your faded hologram, your broken avatar?
Your porcelain dream, so real it seems,
So near and yet so far.
Believing things, we can’t see
Can you believe in me?
Open, hoping, for our time.
Waiting, wondering, endless dreaming.
Open, hoping, for our time.