The air is warming up again The summer sounds are like old friends I see the sunlight through the trees I wonder if the sun can see me? I hear the echoes of those days Reflecting back at me in waves Carved into benches I'll remain With names I'll never say again Like children's handprints in old concrete The things we leave behind Slowly lose their meaning When paths get hard to find Handprints in old concrete Ghosts we leave behind Fingers with no feeling This world I leave behind The air is warming up again The summer sounds are like old friends I feel the sunlight through the trees