What’s left of two’s love when one’s loving dies? What’s left, but acrid memories of lies
She told, that helped to tear our trust apart?
What’s left, but sleepless nights when my heart cries To be with you? What’s left, but anguished sighs For eyes that brim with mischief, and soft hair, Warm words you spoke when friendship was more fair, And hunger for your lissom loins and thighs, And your light laugh that bubbled like a dream? What’s left, but weeping for what might have been, Had you not known your past love’s cruel sting, And fled, afraid to be betrayed again?
What’s left, but aching longing, bitter pain?
It’s time that I forgot, and lived again.