I walk along the street. I look into your eyes. I’m pleasant when we meet. I’m there when you go home. How many times before. Could you tell I didn’t care? When you turned your back on me. I knew we’d get nowhere. Do you believe in youth. The history of all truth. A heart that’s left at home. Becomes a heart of stone.
Do you believe in truth? The lies we told of youth. A cause we call our own. Beside an empty throne. How many times before. Could you tell I didn’t care? When you reached out in your sleep. And you knew I wasn’t there. My eyes are made of stone. Just like your sordid home. How many times before. Did you leave my soul alone?