Besedila: William Elliott Whitmore. Everyday.

As the sun came up over that eastern field today
I could not help but think of you
The feeling shoots through me like a bullet
when I think of all the pain I put you through
Every day I can see that I'm a part of you
and you're a part of me

It all used to make so much more sense
and I'd have it all again if I could choose
I've lost some things over the years
but the memory I will not lose

As the sun goes down over that western field
I still can't help but think of you
Wherever you are I hpe your wounds have healed
and you forgive me for the pain I put you through

Everyday it tortures me
I guess the apple fell too far from the tree