Slow falling whispers on pricked up ears   Slow burning cinders, three long years between   when we lit them in so much haste   High hazard seasons, houses laid to waste      Did you forget it all?   Do you listen when I call?   These fire trails lead north   and slowly back in time      Time has its reasons for letting go   Comes as it pleases. This new growth beneath   where the branches are cracked and bowed   covers the feelings these old scars still show      Did you forget it all?   Do you listen when I call?   These fire trails lead north   and slowly back in time      If only I could have escaped   without turning back to take   things that I could have replaced      You just can't return to these days