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