Faces in the sand.  Wind blows away the grains making different pictures.  Not the same, see the grains, brown on to different plains.  Nothing\'s new, nothings old.  It makes the soul grow cold.  See the heartbreak.  Feel the pain.  No more love.  Nothing\'s the same.  Lonesome and lost help me find my way.  No one to turn to.  My minds in a daze.  Turn to myself is the only way!