You said all was wrong, that it wasn't love at all. You said "go back home" but this train won't come, I'm stuck here in your city with your memories. There's nothing I can do but to erase your face and forget about who you really are and hope to disappear.
But I know you were as real as the sun. Every single sip of it, so says my faith.
You said our love was wrong, t'was no love at all, said "go home". But this train will never come. Tells me none of this was real, but I know this is real as a ray of sun. As your kisses, as the time I rubbed your skin. That day.
And April, May, they make sense. Give a sense to everything.
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