They say that to forget you
I have to travel to Mars
to do 300 years of therapy
and to decide, to stop letting April pass,
to collect all the autumn leaves
They say that to forget you
I must have in my pocket
an almanac without Sundays, a cruise ship
and sail in a sealess ocean
drinking all the rainwater
And in reality, there are things I won't forget
like your eyes of solitude
the evening that made them cry
And I hear voices inside my house
sometimes I think it's your ghost
your threats, my escapes,
portrait of my secrecy
They say that joining four rabbit's paws
with thick salt, and repeating in front of a mirror,
'I'll forget,' maybe I can untie
the knot that binds us in this spell
They say about the day you left
I do no more than say goodbye to you
inventing a present tense for myself
To feel I'm doing something for myself
I build on shifting sands
And in reality, there are things I don't want to forget
like your eyes of solitude
the evening that made them cry
And I hear voices inside my house
sometimes I think it's your ghost
your threats, my escapes,
portrait of my secrecy
If I don't forget you, they say it could
hurt much more than how it hurts now
When I have you in my memory
you're here