Every time you say 
There will be a change
I'll be counting til ten 
Until it strikes again 
Your blood wrote melodies 
Formed patterns 
Like bright red leaves 
The pavements grey ash 
Stained your face with dust 
I am holding on to you
Every time I ride my bike 
Past the corner 
Where you fell that day
There is this growing feeling 
My head is pounding of shame
People are rushing by 
To busy to realise
That there are still 
Flowers on the ground
And several notes of goodbye
I'm holding on to you