The tears dried as our love died; many simply wasted, by lips that lied.
I'm sure I'll become a memory of the past from something that didn't last.
People change like picture frames so I glance over and wonder if that's still your name.
Will you love her as much as me? Will she be the new shiny trophy you love to see?
What will it matter anyway, since you've already said I'd rue the day?
So I sit and wait here for dismay.