I can write a million songs reflecting on my thoughts
I can’t make a breakthrough if all these songs are yours
Every last confession has been trampled on the floor
Say you didn’t realize but I don’t care any more

Does it make me wise, writing all these rhymes about our life
Does it make me wise?

Questions need an answer, but a writer needs a source
My anticipation is a never-ending curse
I keep thinking that you’re doing life like we rehearsed,
Saying that you love me is a hollow choice of words

You were all,
All and more
I’ll never know a love so gold and pure
Let me fall,
I would fall
To know you never loved me much at all
And does it make me wise if I’m still yours?

Was it all the things, all the things we’d say?
All the talk without the game

What it all the things, all the things at stake?
All the unsupported claims

You have got a good thing going, take it ‘til the end
With some kind of strategy we’ll find ourselves again.

You have got a good thing going, take it ‘til the end.

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