I can't believe it, you of all things
It's been a while; memories deem some kind of anthem
Lingering, images settle internally

Ribbons and detours meant nothing to me
Swaying our sentiments, pulling our strings
Tempting me softly, but killing our dream
You said it's over but maybe... 
It's the same old thing

I can't believe it, you of all [bad word] in homage, devious needs
Intimate outlies, weakening
Tranquilize slowly, inside of me
Ribbons and detours meant nothing to me
Swaying our sentiments, pulling our strings

Tempting me softly, but killing our dream
You said it's over but maybe... 
It's the same old thing

I gave the softest parts, [bad word] by the darkest parts
Whispered the tender parts, made of idealistic scenes

Ribbons and detours meant nothing to me
Swaying our sentiments, pulling our strings
Tempting me softly, but killing our dream
You said it's over but maybe... 
It's the same old thing
It's the same old thing
It's the same old thing
It's the same old thing