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