The past floats like stonesnIn a town up north by the coastnA deserted apartmentnThat’s where my memory goesnnAnd you are almost gonenYou’re almost out of my mindnWell, you never come to visitnSo you’ll have to suit yourselfnnMaybe I’m making the story up as I gonBut didn’t you tell menYou were an old man when you werenOnly nine years old?nnThe sun climbs aroundnScanning the kitchen for lifenI’m out of ordernLooking down on the citynnMaybe I grab after something that’s long, long gonenBut sad as it may seemnIt’s those things that keep you goingnnAnd you walk and you walknAnd the city grows smallernAnd you’ve heard every soundnAnd you’ve seen every cornernAnd you dream and you dreamnAnd you dream of whatevernAnd you hope for a hand to come pull you awaynAnd you’ve heard of a bird, of the greatest white birdnAnd you start every daynLooking out to see if it’s coming your way