You left on a train
On the morning of October
"Won't you button up your coat?" I said
"It's cold out here"
Who was I to think
There could ever be a future
You assured me once
It was all I could bear
As I waited on the corner
The telephone booth, I recall
You wrote of tragedies
On a letter stained with your tears
"I will never be the same"
I said "To me, you will"
In the evening I remained
Still unsettled on the corner
Would your voice return to me
At the end of this wire?
Or will we always be this lonely?