In the Town of Austere, nothing is ever the same.

There was a silver tree
Down by a river wide

That's where we would go

To hang our pretty things

And watch the wind blow

There used to be a tree

Where we took our pretty things
We'd hook them by a thread

Golden egg lipstick and feathers

Pieces of glass, chandelier baubles

And empty bottles of wine
And watch the light shine through

I'm afraid to forget you.

I am remembering you

You were sparkling.