You lost yourself somewhere along the way, somewhere as dreamy as the sounds you speak in,
We all do at some point, it happens,
Some call it growing up, I call it lying down,
I tried looking for what you lost in the wreckage of this town,
in smoldering piles of rubble and ash,
but nothing was to be found,
at least nothing that would last,
And now I see my Femme Fatale,
Lost in a mixture of sheets and other's ballads,
Come back to yourself
Not for me