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Well, didn't you look sharp with your boots |
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When you met me on the path? |
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OhFrom two tone to |
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Downtown Beirut |
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But only halfway back, oh |
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Stealing bits of wisdom from the shelf |
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Turned prisons into prisms on the self |
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Oh, ohAnd what do they know |
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About the springtime of me and you, ooh |
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Born in the midst of |
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The long hot summer we lived through, ooh |
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Did they see you run for every rhyme? |
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Did we run for running out of time? |
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Oh, ohWhen even heroes have to die |
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No one lives forever, love |
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No one's wise to try |
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Oh, oh, oh, oh |
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Oh, oh, oh, oh |
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OhAnd adding our own wisdom to the shelf |
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Stealing bits of paper, we had health |
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Oh, ohBut working away |
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Did we miss the passing of the time? |
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OhIn your own flame you can wither |
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Through your passions still outshine, oh |
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Did you read the writing on the wall |
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Prophesying a doom upon us all |
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Oh, ohThat even heroes have to die |
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No one lives forever, love |
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No one's wise to try |
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Oh, oh, oh, oh |
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Oh, oh, oh, oh |
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Oh, oh, oh, oh |
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Oh, oh, oh, oh |
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But hidden in the writing on the wall |
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Many are the beauties of the fall |
