I hear you whisper down my empty streets. Everywhere I go looks like a lonely town. I believe that we've been making hard promises to keep. You want me to believe in forever. I'm trying hard to see the pretty picture that you paint for me.
Promises are like little diamonds.
Promises are like little hearts you meant to give away. I thought you'd want them back someday. I've kept them for you anyway, but I know when I've been given hard promises to keep. Wild roses open their hearts gently by the by. Wild roses grow unattended and nobody ever knows why.