On Every March 9th Paroles

i carry some presents for you
and after they're opened
you still keep the boxes
cause they're special too

but trinkets can't
show you how much
i wish i saw you every day
when i can't

and still one gift remains
that old refrain
you always call your favorite
i start to play

but i haven't sung in a year
so my hands are quaking with fear
but then my eyelids shut
i envision your smile
my fingers compose because i still think you'll come back if i say

''please?''

and you don't answer back
but that's okay
i'll ask on every march 9th
you might someday