I step off train, I'm walking down your street again, and past your door, but you don't live there anymore. years since you've been there. Now you've disappeared like outer space, you've found some better place, and I miss you - the deserts miss the rain. Could you be dead? You always were two ahead of everyone. We'd walk behind while you would run. I look up at your and I can almost hear you shout down to me where I always used to be, and I miss - like the deserts miss the rain. on the train, I ask why did I come again. Can I confess I've been hanging around your old And the years have proven to offer nothing since moved. You're long gone but I can't move on, and I miss you - like the deserts miss the rain