| 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 |