Oh, is this really the end?

And as all the leaves rustle above us.

And as all the dirt covers our skin.

Rest your head onto my chest.

I'll tell you stories of the life we could have had.

We danced bare-footed in the grass.

We read big, heavy books and we would smile.

Our only drug was love.

And boy did we get high, oh, how we smoked each other up.

And as all the leaves rustle above us.

And as all the dark covers our skin.

Rest your head onto my chest.

I'll tell you stories of the life we could have had.

Oh, my love, my one true friend.

Oh, is this really the end?

We worked hard and we made lots of money.

And when we had enough to be happy, we gave the rest away.

We didn't complain much.

We were good with what we had.

Oh, how we were happy.

And as all the leaves rustle above us.

And as all the cold buries our bones.

Rest your head onto my chest.

I'll tell you stories of the life we could have had.

We traveled to lands and then beyond.

Found ourselves a boat and sailed into the sun.

Oh, how we were happy.

In the life we could have had.

Had, had, had, had.

Rest your head onto my chest.

I'll tell you stories of the dream we could have lived.

Of the places we could have seen.

Of the things we could have done.

Of the people we could have been.

Now every word is a whisper.

And every sound is a song.

And as all the leaves rustle above us.

There's no moving on.

This is the end...