In the dusk of late November We used to walk along the sound The wind would steal our breath in bunches Didn't want it to be found As the waves weaved through our silence, Inhibitions crashing down, You took a palm of salty sand in case our hourglass ran out Though somewhat sentimental, I was cynical and proud So I threw away my shotgun, vows left echoed on the shore I was sure I'd have another chance to hear them Again And yet this rock keeps turning Again and again, again and again This rock keeps turning Without my friend It was 95 and counting Beneath our weeping willow tree You handed me a notebook A new passage there to read The opening was jarring Though the thought was kind of sweet The line about azaleas Landed slightly off the beat Though things were hot and heavy I was scared of getting loud In the shade I dared to kiss ya, Cut short by my self doubt I would put down roots and stay if I could be there Again There was that lazy Tuesday evening Laying lifeless on the sofa When we found that awful movie Where we'd met and shared a soda The acting was atrocious The scenery was bleak But the lightness of your laughter Kept me glued into my seat Oh I'd stew inside my silence And cringe at every scene But I knew you'd still reach over Put your stubborn hand in mine And hold it like we'd never get to be there Again And yet this rock keeps turning Again and again, again and again This rock keeps turning Without my friend And yet this rock keeps turning Again and again, and again and again This rock keeps turning Without my friend Somewhere in a shoebox there's a half a pint of sand, A poem about a flower, an old movie that got panned The strange things we hold onto so our lovers last forever, So our friends keep coming over, so our parents stay together But now they're all sleeping In a cardboard mausoleum And I'd do anything and everything that I possibly could do Just to find a way to hold them Again To hold them again Again and again I miss my friend