i loved her and sometimes she loved me too
and all i ever was, too scared to lose her to another.

i miss her and i know sometimes she'll miss me too,
but not the way i have and certainly not the way i do.

only if there was a way to love someone
even more perhaps we'd made it through


and so i loved her and sometimes our love felt so true,
but you never know why when sometimes the feelings just die

and why the truly bless'd are so few.


now when i hate her at times i blame myself for having loved her true
but she was never mine and all we ever had is now lost to the time,

and i can't tame the bleeding blues.


i loved her and
sometimes she loved me too


and i try to find meaning in words
of the great Pablo,
but there's no healing only this
mutual satisfaction of knowing,

that he felt the same way as i  do.

even though we're not the same
nobody can tell anybody else's pain
though it's just one hell
and we'll never find each other again

at the very end
the only man in the mirror
is lonely you

but i loved her
and i know sometimes she loved me too.