OLD TEARS NEVER DIE

I slip on the tears that you make me cry,
my heart waxes cold as it slowly dies,
I walk in the darkness searching for that light,
no matter which way it never is right.

Like a weeping willow my tears make grow,
the fervent grass on the ground below,
my countenance grows so ever sour,
my heart, it aches through the endless hours.

I walk in a desert in the heat of the sand,
wandering aimlessly looking for that hand,
I look on the sand and what do I see,
but a withering rose thirsting for me.

Love... it's so much like the air,
like the sky when it cries with much despair...