| No more tears, my heart is dry
|
| I don’t laugh and I don’t cry
|
| I don’t think about you all the time
|
| But when I do I wonder why
|
| You have to go out of my door
|
| And leave just like you did before
|
| I know I said that I was sure
|
| But rich men can’t imagine poor
|
| One day baby, we’ll be old
|
| Oh baby, we’ll be old
|
| And think about the stories that we could have told
|
| Little me and little you
|
| Kept doing all the things they do
|
| They never really think it through
|
| Like I can never think you’re true
|
| Here I go again — the blame
|
| The guilt, the pain, the hurt, the shame
|
| The founding fathers of our plane
|
| That’s stuck in heavy clouds of rain
|
| One day baby, we’ll be old
|
| Oh baby, we’ll be old
|
| And think of all the stories that we could have told |