In this desolate land of pain and sorrow,
a heart is that which may only be borrowed.
for those who win this loveless game,
they steal your heart to enhance their fame.
Those of us who are left behind,
we try to reason but lost in mind.
stumble about hopeing to live,
but help is something no one will give.
Now I am left alone and cold,
Perhaps till wrinkled, sad, and old.
for In this desolate land of pain and sorrow,
I'll hope and dream, for someone, tomorrow.