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Every once in a while you'll find a man looking for heaven, 

Wanting to hold it in his hands,

He'll speak of such great plans,

I am no longer that man,

No longer the man wishing he could find a solution, 

Now I'm just wishing I could forget my old delusion,

Love. 

I don't think it dies, 

Maybe I was stupid to try,

Or maybe we're both still just having to hide,

There's someone else for both of us now,

I know I should move on before I take the final bow - but troublesome feelings have me asking, "How?"