The end of the game Neither the words left nor the secret we said to each other The word is time to Remember your Our end time
I cant stay I dont have anything to do Its hard This is the end of the line
I have no only sleep You are dreaming of your dreams Alas, alas, Memories Memoirs A left of your empty look No boredom Maybe this love game We Remember those days I came home I always remember I cant believe that the day was finished Whatever we had, the memories were Gods tired again Slowly, let me down Our bed Because our bed smells of perfume I know it is hard but you have to believe I and we cant even talk Dont be together for a moment We have to be separated as soon as
I can not stay I know I know very hard This is the end of the line Whatever the game Whatever we are like the old book, we said Memories said and said nothing to Daughter. Monet Past Whatever the past There is no way Time to Remember your Our end time The past is Whatever the past No other way remember you
