Well all your songs became
ice, ice cold.
And the same thing happened
to your heart.
I remember how we danced
in the moonlighted evening
and we drifted and swayed
with the wind, and
Those lovely red lips that
endlessly smiled on
those warm, long nights.

I don't think anything compares
to the way it feels in your arms
and the soft kiss of yours when
you whisper so sweet. Oh,
there's no greater joy in the world.
But it's all stretching out and we're
strained and we're saddened
so what is there left to do?

The sound of you playing your
guitar, however new the tune,
was always bright and warm.
Now the sound is hollow and
chills the whole room, and
it breaks our aching hearts
every time.
I remember the laughs,
excitement, and joy,
singing along and stumbling
about. Oh and how, melodious
we'd sound when we sang
together.

I don't think anything compares
to the way it feels in your arms
and the soft kiss of yours when
you whisper so sweet. Oh,
there's no greater joy in the world.
But it's all stretching out and we're
strained and we're saddened
so what is there left to do?

And the days that we counted once,
romantic, now seem to be a countdown
to destruction, and all the pain and
the locked in fear has spread wider
this terrible rift.

I don't think anything compares
to the way it feels in your arms
and the soft kiss of yours when
you whisper so sweet. Oh,
there's no greater joy in the world.
But it's all stretching out and we're
strained and we're saddened
so what is there left to do?

What are we left to do?
I know I need you, and you need me too,
but without happiness,
what are we left to do?

What are we left to do?
I know I need you, and you need me too,
but without happiness,
what are we left to do?