Whistling and waiting by the phone,
I love it when you call.
When my phone yells out a ring
my heart pounds and almost stalls.

Down the road, my usual route
I see a car like yours.
My eyes get wide, teary eyed,
I ask, "Why can't that be hers?"

Out in public, I see your back
the feeling of love starts to burn.
Behind my mask, deep down inside
I know it's not you if they turn.

Back at home, all alone
my feelings cling to tears.
Hope is what I run on
since you've been dead for 20 years.