It's strange the way that past seems always fine
while the present wears me down and time and time
and time lies heavy over me as it does over you
and the distance and what you said I know it wasn't true.

Every hour every minute is like a hundred years
and the pain I feel is measured not in inches but in tears,
so woman, friend or foe,
just hold me close and please don't let me go.

Well, my life now is ok in the morning in the day
but the night is long the night is sad
and that's when I have dreams I know you never had,
I know that I was wrong, I know that I was bad
so baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby,
won't you come this way?

I'm walking down the street,
I see the people that meet each other
they kiss and talk and talk and kiss and talk
but I feel so alone.

And the world is made of stone
and everybody's freezing to the bones
even known it might be warm,
even known it isn't cold.

It's strange the way that past...

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