i wish i'd see a field below
i wish i'd hear a rooster crow
but there are none who live downtown
and so the day starts out so slow
again the sun was never called
and darkness spreads over the snow
like ancient bruises
i'm awake and feel the ache
but i wish i'd see a field below...

i wish i'd see your face below
i wish i'd hear you whispering low
but you don't live downtown no more
and everything must come and go
again the sun was never called
and darkness spreads over the snow
like ancient bruises
i'm awake and feel the ache...
but i wish i'd see a field below...
~Regina Spektor

I like that phrase, 'ancient bruises.'