I spend my days now by the hundreds And I remember the weeks when we lived by the tens I’d be lying if I tell you I’m not sad If my sadness is a well It’d take light-years to crawl out If not for the strongest stubbornness resolve of not giving in or giving up I’d be drowned long time now I pondered, long and hard Where it all gone awry Why the road to hell Was paved with so many good intentions Toiling in bed till dawn and All I could fathom was that that was nobody’s fault victims we both were of the jokes of the crossing-stars spun by a black moon And I’d be lying if I tell you that That’s not sad |