I think of you when I’m up here.
I believed I would find a person who always made me think of them when I travelled anywhere, and now I do, without you as mine.
You’re in the breeze and the view I thought I’d share with you. You’re in the sun and the ground we would have made ours.
You were the one who I believed in, and now the breeze is empty, the view is mine, the sun rests behind a cloud, and this ground belongs to no one.
Still, I think of you when I’m up here, believing in things that once were.