Is this something real, Or am I a fool? Is this how you feel, or are you plain cruel? Are these the words that you say, so I don’t run away? Or is there a heart, is there a heart behind it all? Is life as one, only a promise of nights alone? Craving the phone to ring, times to sing, sorrows of a life, of a life gone by. In this empty house, as empty hours build, this room is filled with doubt. Am I to move on without your hand in mine, or is it worth a lie?