Love has been run down,
Turned to just a feeling...
No longer profound.

Oh, love, what have you become?
Plastered as something that makes us come undone.

Still, sometimes, I still see you
In the eyes of an old man talking to who
Can only be seen in photographs and stone.
He talks about her like he's seventeen
So in-love and so brand new
Burdened sweetly with the thoughts of 'you'

But, the young who have not  discovered...
To them, you aren't as special or protected.
You're just a feeling...
A burden...
An aching...
A label...

Oh, love...
What have you become?