• I remember those days that I'd cry at the phone
    Those three dead rings and then your monotone
    I'd hear your apology and choke back a tear
    And wish that something would bring you back here
    But as the messages come in day by day
    Your voice and its memories start to fade away
    It's just another recording and doesn't mean a thing
    Well, at least that's what I tell myself after the third dead ring.