Feist

Why would he come back through the park
You thought that you saw him, but no you did not
It's not him coming across the sea to surprise you
Not him who would know where in London to find you
Sadness so real that it populates
The city and leaves you homeless again
Steam from a cup and snow on the path
The seasons have changed from the present to past
The past...
There's hope to have
In the past...