I went out for a ride,
through the village tonight,
passed the place where you used to live.
The memories hit,
the way a tidal wave arrives on a shore.
This time of year,
the memories seem to sting that little bit more.
We were carefree back then,
years from both being men.
We used to laugh and we used to play.
I hear your voice,
it's '96 and it is Christmas day.
If I had my choice,
things would not have ended up this way.
The nights, alone,
And the seasons here.
Where are you?
Where are you?
The nights, alone,
And the seasons here.
Where are you?
Where are you?
The things you give and you send
that you receive from your friends
you should just box them up and throw them away.
It don't mean a thing
if you can't put your hand on heart and say,
"I'm here for you
and I will be here for you every day.
The ones we lose
are gone forever and that's how they'll stay".
