When you feel blue
and the
world's unforgiving
and life itself seems it's not worth the living,
you're a victim of
unrequited love
and your soul
cries in vain,
lonely one.
You played the game
with the odds all
against you,
but had you known
that romance
had a curfew,
you are out of bounds,
making all the rounds.
Now you pay for your play,
lonely one.
A look through an album while you
reminisce of holidays,
London and Spain.
A teardrop in silence to slowly
remind you they'll never happen again.
So don't forget
that there's always tomorrow.
And maybe
fate
sees an end to your sorrow.
So you slowly weep, cry yourself to sleep
as you pay for your play, lonely one.
