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