Among the valleys and dusty moors,
lies hidden memories beneath the forest floor.
A tale so sad its never told,
a woman and horse, a match made in gold.
...
Sometimes i lie in bed at night,
and think about the times.
The times you used to take me out
and make up silly rhymes.
...
I hid away from the terrible truth,
The truth that was never to be told.
Of the girl who waited in the darkness,
in the nightmares and the cold.
...
Why is the house so silent?
Why is the garden so still?
Here i wander along the paths
with my nose pressed up against the window sill.
...
I stand here waiting
for you to take me home.
But ive been here for days
and here i stand alone.
...