We've left the hills alone, and buried our names in them.
To fear, our childhood bows
and we quickly follow.
But at the last moment we turn, and make a run for it.
Now we can only watch,
Slide down the icy hill on our bums
as our childhood cries with outstretched arms.
We are never coming back again, for we cannot climb the icy hill.
No matter how hard we try, we will always fall.
And that little boy, that little girl, that we have left at the top,
can only watch us struggle,
for they cannot help, in fear of falling as well.

We are never coming back.