A television glows to lift the heavy gloam

No phones ringing, silence singing

An island of your own, you fill the space alone

With no doors knocking, old ghosts talking

On and on, the empty memories echo all night long

On and on, their distant voices sing the saddest song

And in the Winter's slow fall, the heart becomes a snowball

Since your Spring's curtain call, the cart has found a new colt

In the Winter's slow fall, the heart becomes a snowball

Your voice may carry but who will pick up?

A lonely flower grows into a poisoned rose

Kills the garden, poor soil hardens

You are a bowl of fruit, still life and destitute

Pills are scattered, bottles shattered

On and on, the early memories are never gone

On and on, time's resistance only makes them strong

And in the Winter's slow fall, the heart becomes a snowball

Since your Spring's curtain call, the cart has found a new colt

In the Winter's slow fall, the heart becomes a snowball

Your voice may carry but who is calling?