| She was looking for the moon and the stars combined
|
| But she had no hand to show
|
| She was clinging to the wreckage of other times
|
| Playing on her radio
|
| Through signs and wounded glances
|
| Through whispered hints of failed romances
|
| She was sure in her heart,
|
| She was blinded with tears
|
| She was sure in her heart,
|
| She was blinded with tears
|
| She was flicking through the pages of magazines
|
| And all she found was misery
|
| She was looking for the truth in that bed of dreams
|
| Wrecking like some history
|
| Inside a world of guilty stammers
|
| Who are the anvils, who the hammers?
|
| She was sure in her heart,
|
| She was blinded with tears
|
| She was sure in her heart,
|
| She was blinded with tears
|
| She was looking for the meaning of days to come
|
| Forever hurrying up and down the street
|
| She stood at evening in the room alone
|
| In a cloak of silk and steel
|
| Inside a bone-deep understanding
|
| Through whispered hints of failed romances
|
| She was sure in her heart,
|
| She was blinded with tears
|
| She was sure in her heart,
|
| She was blinded with tears
|
| She was sure in her heart,
|
| She was blinded with tears
|
| She was sure in her heart,
|
| She was blinded with tears |