Walking on thin ice,
 I’m paying the price
 For throwing the dice in the air.
 Why must we learn it the hard way
 And play the game of life with your heart? 

 I gave you my knife,
 You gave me my life
 Like a gush of wind in my hair.
 Why do we forget what’s been said
 And play the game of life with our hearts? 

 I may cry some day,
 But the tears will dry whichever way.
 And when our hearts return to ashes,
 It’ll be just a story,
 It’ll be just a story.

 Ai-ai-ai-ai-ai-ai-ai-ai...

 Ooh-ahooh...

 "i knew a girl who tried to walk across the lake,
 ’course it was winter when all this was ice.
 That’s a [bad word] of a thing to do, you know.
 They say the lake is as big as the ocean.
 I wonder if she knew about it? "

 Ai-ai-ai-ai-ai-ai-ai-ai...