I gave you all the words I had, then learned that silence holds me too. The chair you left still keeps the shape of nights we never spoke the truth. This is the last goodbye, my dear— not a door, but an open sky. The road will keep us where we stand, and I will learn to let you go. I used to build a world from words, but stone by stone it leaned on me. Now the garden grows where the walls gave way, and I am bending to the breeze. This is the last goodbye, my dear— not a door, but an open sky. The road will keep us where we stand, and I will learn to let you go. If I had another life to give, I would still give you the quiet one. Not the storms, not the fire— just the morning after all is done. This is the last goodbye, my dear— not a door, but an open sky. The road will keep us where we stand, and I will learn to let you go. Mmm... mmm... mmm... The road is still... The sky is wide... This is the last goodbye.
