In a room full of people,
yet you feel alone.

Always in the house,
but you never feel at home.

The one you dream of
doesn't know you're there.

And you care too much,
when nobody seems to care.

You are sitting still
but your mind is racing.

Your face seems calm
but you heart is pacing.

You are alive,
but feel so dead.

You exist in the world,
but only live inside your head.

Do me a favour:
And get out of my head.
I'm sick of your memory.
Of you,
and all the things you said.

If you spit blood
while brushing your teeth:
it could be a sign
of gum disease.

And if you feel
pain and distress
it might be a sign
that you're depressed.

And if you are
anything like me,
it could be a sign.
It might just be.

If you ache
and you don't know why,
it could be sign
that you need to cry.

And if you cry
and there's no relief,
it could be a sign,
that like a thief
life has taken its toll
and its becoming too much;
and now you've grown
cold to touch.

If this sounds
anything like you
it's probably a sign,
that there are two.
That together we fall.
and that what you're going through,
is nothing new;
so hold onto something,
anything,
and I will, too.

It's never quite as romantic as they make it out to be.
These trips to France
or Spain
or Germany.
To the misty mountains of Iceland,
the wine-toasting grottos of Italy.

The romance comes about a half-hour before sun rise.
Catching, counting
and losing count
of the stars you see in her eyes.
In those sincere sighs
that come after the heartfelt goodbyes
and the soft smiles in those happy hellos:
Those are the ones
that let you know.

Romance is not a place:
It's a person.
And when you find them,
hold them close
and never let go.
Or you'll be destined to dwell on the past
and to dream only of tomorrow.
With a head full of regret
and a heart full of sorrow.

Don't let it happen to you
like it happened to me.
Hold her close, for heaven's sake:
Or lost
you will forever be.