I can write a million songs reflecting on my thoughts
I canít make a breakthrough if all these songs are yours
Every last confession has been trampled on the floor
Say you didnít realize but I donít care any more
Does it make me wise, writing all these rhymes about our life
Does it make me wise?
Questions need an answer, but a writer needs a source
My anticipation is a never-ending curse
I keep thinking that youíre doing life like we rehearsed,
Saying that you love me is a hollow choice of words
You were all,
All and more
Iíll never know a love so gold and pure
Let me fall,
I would fall
To know you never loved me much at all
And does it make me wise if Iím still yours?
Was it all the things, all the things weíd say?
All the talk without the game
What it all the things, all the things at stake?
All the unsupported claims
You have got a good thing going, take it Ďtil the end
With some kind of strategy weíll find ourselves again.
You have got a good thing going, take it Ďtil the end.