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.
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 and think of all the stories that we could have told.