Wilderness Years - The Fugitives

She said, «I'm not the type to leave an impression»

and I banked her smile in a drawer

we pretended to smoke the air on the street

I thought, here’s an addiction I could lobby for

winter layers tried to bury her figure

as my hands dug away in the frost

and carved along curves that I seemed to remember

confusing something familiar with something lost

the wilderness years were an education

I’m more lost than I was before

maybe young love is infatuation

it’s still one thing worth staying up for

I thought to myself, to be warm in the winter

is a tasty little defeat

and we dangled a kiss and I smiled without looking

as the snow cushioned my feet

and led them back onto the street

the wilderness years were an education

I’m more lost than I was before

maybe young love is infatuation

It’s still one thing worth staying up for

a little manicured fear

and some trepidation

for the ones who love without hesitating

I’m not the type to leave an impression

the wilderness years were an education

maybe young love is infatuation

it’s still one thing worth staying up for