So here I am once more in the playground of the broken hearts |
| One more experience, one more entry in a diary, self-penned |
| Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride |
| Too late to say I love you, too late to re-stage the play |
| Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday |
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts |
| I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts |
| Too much, too soon, too far to go, too late to play, the game is over |
| The game is over |
So here I am once more in the playground of the broken heart |
| I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts, the game is over, over |
| Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride |
| I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts, the game is over |
| Too late to say I love you, too late to re-stage the play |
| The game is over |
I act the role in classic style of a martyr carved with twisted smile |
| To bleed the lyric for this song to write the rites to right my wrongs |
| An epitaph to a broken dream to exorcise this silent scream |
| A scream that's borne from sorrow |
I never did write that love song, the words just never seemed to flow |
| Now sad in reflection did I gaze through perfection |
| And examine the shadows on the other side of the morning |
| And examine the shadows on the other side of mourning |
| Promised wedding now a wake |
The fool escaped from paradise will look over his shoulder and cry |
| Sit and chew on daffodils and struggle to answer why? |
| As you grow up and leave the playground |
| Where you kissed your prince and found your frog |
| Remember the jester that showed you tears, the script for tears |
So I'll hold our peace forever when you wear your bridal gown |
| In the silence of my shame the mute that sang the sirens' song |
| Has gone solo in the game, I've gone solo in the game |
| But the game is over |
| Can you still say you love me |