It's lonely in this place. Too hot one day, too cold the next... It's like the seasons can never make up their minds There's never any light here. Like reading a good story, but an uninteresting ending... Elvis never saw it but sang ballads to its beauty. There's pieces of April here. She never believed, but gave it all she had... I pretended that I cared but languished in colored bits of cloth. So tired of the music. I can't turn it off, but listen as it grows tepid... People turn their heads but always pass without regard. Gazing into the mountains. There's no gold left, to search for in these hills... So much was forged here but forgotten like the ending of a dream. Many odes have been sung to her. Faded into obscurity, and left to breathe their last... Twisted into rhyme and favored, but with nothing gained or lost. The heroes of old have gone. They've left nothing, but legends in their wake... To give back a dream and forget that nothing can last forever. The whiskey is growing bitter. It's faded so quickly, that soon no one will remember... To begin again is easy. But leaving? That is the hardest part for all of us.