|
She was looking for the moon and the stars combined |
|
But she had no hand to show |
|
She was clinging to the wreckage of other times |
|
Playing on her radio |
|
Through signs and wounded glances |
|
Through whispered hints of failed romances |
|
She was sure in her heart, |
|
She was blinded with tears |
|
She was sure in her heart, |
|
She was blinded with tears |
|
She was flicking through the pages of magazines |
|
And all she found was misery |
|
She was looking for the truth in that bed of dreams |
|
Wrecking like some history |
|
Inside a world of guilty stammers |
|
Who are the anvils, who the hammers? |
|
She was sure in her heart, |
|
She was blinded with tears |
|
She was sure in her heart, |
|
She was blinded with tears |
|
She was looking for the meaning of days to come |
|
Forever hurrying up and down the street |
|
She stood at evening in the room alone |
|
In a cloak of silk and steel |
|
Inside a bone-deep understanding |
|
Through whispered hints of failed romances |
|
She was sure in her heart, |
|
She was blinded with tears |
|
She was sure in her heart, |
|
She was blinded with tears |
|
She was sure in her heart, |
|
She was blinded with tears |
|
She was sure in her heart, |
|
She was blinded with tears |
