Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor.
Is this the place we used to love? Is this the place that I’ve been dreaming of? Oh simple thing, where have you gone? I’m getting old and I need something to rely on. So tell me when you’re gonna let me in, I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin.
It’s as cold as a November night at home. One where I’ve slipped into the woods, lantern in hand, to join Gale at some prearranged place where we’ll sit bundled together, sipping herb tea from metal flasks wrapped in quilting, hoping game will pass our way as the morning comes on.
Oh, Gale, I think. If only you had my back now…
“Gale is Mine, and I am His”
Remember all the things we wanted
Now all our memories, they’re haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye