Europe Acoustic
In the dead of winter,
nothing makes a sound,
except the whistling trees
brittle in the ground.
The frozen winter sun,
it doesn’t shine.
All this would melt away
If You Were Mine.
The steam in the city,
like the flame in my heart,
vanishes in frozen air
without a chance to start.
Pass you on a corner,
first and last time.
All this would melt away
If You Were Mine.
In the dead of winter,
voices on the street.
Traffic blocks the avenue
and two souls never meet.
Frozen on my overcoat,
the tears I’m cryin’.
All this would melt away
If You Were Mine.
Comments
