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 restage the play
abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday.
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.
yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
i'm losing on the swings, i'm lossing
on the roundabouts, the game is over
too late to say i love you, too late to restage the play
the game is over.
i act the role in classic style of
a martyr carved with a 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
no sad in reflection did i gaze through perfection
and examine the shadows on the other side of mourning
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 my peace forever when you wear your bridal gown
in the silence of my shame the mute that sang the siren's
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 can you still say you love me
can you still say that you love me.