In this grave hour, I have composed our final song:
The last words of our love lost. (of our love lost)
I called your hands home for years, for years, for years, for years on end.
It’s become distant and I hate my helpless defiance. No....
You have no problem finding me, although you only commit unintentionally. (unintentionally)
I do it for the Lord, I do it for Chicago.
I once lived for you, and I’ve never ever been
so wrong (wrong), wrong, so wrong (wrong), wrong.
We keep building, building to find no release.
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