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Let It Be Me

de David Mead

What becomes of baby's breath drying up
Different than the rose that you won't forget
It's not enough

Like a bookmark holds your place, stopping time
But when the story's over it's shelved away
Left behind

Almost and always i've given my love for free
And almost and always i've watched as it leaves

What becomes of old cassettes, thick with dust
Temporary soundtracks of no regrets
When we were young

Almost and always i've given my love for free
And almost and always i've watched as it leaves

Almost and always it leaves

What becomes of little towns round the bend
Rainy weather postcards i've written down
But never sent

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