Lyrics

A name carved in a new gravestone,
One whose tales were never told,
They were thrown by younger souls aways,
Never to see the light of day,
The lessons that we leave behind,
I'm sure no one will ever find,
Our stories aren't the kind to last,
The future breaks us from the past,
These younger fingers never learned how to write a letter,
It seems this world of ours is running out of storytellers

Looking back on all our miles,
We'll sift through computer files,
Instead of fishing through the piles of pictures,
After all we know it's quicker,
So we take a distant view,
Of thirty takes, no need to choose,
Just a precious few to hold,
In our hands and in our souls,
There will be no boxes full of dust and memories down in the cellar,
It seems this world of ours is running out of storytellers

Sometimes we have no idea of what we have until it's gone,
While we're here we're meant to be loved though we are not here for long,
Sometimes we have no idea of what we have until it's gone,
While we're here we're meant to be loved though we are not here for long

Trading faces for a screen,
The real thing for a figurine,
'Cause we don't know what they will mean to us,
Ash turns to ash and dust to dust,
And when they're gone we're asking how,
We didn't see them take their bow,
Yeah, they were allowed to fade,
And when we saw it was too late,
We hold on to so much thanks to all today's endeavors,
But the most important ones were never meant to be around forever,
So lift your eyes and listen close to them while we can, I know that we better,
'Cause I know this world of ours is running out of storytellers

Sometimes we have no idea of what we have until it's gone,
While we're here we're meant to be loved though we are not here for long,
Sometimes we have no idea of what we have until it's gone,
While we're here we're meant to be loved though we are not here for long