Texty: Cousteau. Nova Scotia. Highly.

Once you spoke of me
So highly then
Now won?t even give me
The light of day
Seems like you?ve fallen
Out of love
Feels like i?m digging
My own grave
And now you?ve thrown it all away
And how you?ve thrown it all away
A satellite is falling
From the sky
And an engine
Is failing far away
Everytime you speak
So badly of
All the perfect times
That we did share
And now you?ve taken it away
And how can these
Memories be saved