Further from my widowed home take the road that sets into the sun,
Waiting for my skin and bone to return and see what I’ve become,
Summer has not yet been here though my days are long,
Take me back to when the night was young and another song was sung.
What of all those pretty tales the ones that took me to this door,
Is it comfort in the salvers way is it comfort upon this wooden floor,
Tell you is it a failure to forget the ones you once held dear,
And I tried to remember but my mind is no longer clear.
– “I Will Remain”, Matthew and the Atlas.