I can't believe it,
you of all things.
It's been a while,
memories teem.
Some kind of anthem lingering.
Images settle internally.
Ribbons and detours meant nothing to me-Swaying our sentiments,
pulling our strings,
Tempting me softly,
but killing our dream.You said it's over,
but maybe it's the same old thing.I can't believe it,
you of all things,
Coming in homage,
devious needs.Intimate outcries, weakening,
Tranquilize slowly inside of me.
Ribbons and detours meant nothing to me,
Swaying our sentiments, pulling our strings,
Tempting me softly, but killing our dream.
You said it's over, but maybe it's the same old thing
.I gave the softest parts, trumped by the darkest parts,
Whispered the tender parts, made of idealistic scenes.
Ribbons and detours meant nothing to me,
Swaying our sentiments, pulling our strings,
Tempting me softly, but killing our dream.
You said it's over, but maybe it's the same old thing.
It's the same old thing.
It's the same old thing.
It's the same old thing.