Don't go thinking... that just because you see me looking sophisticated, modern, and well-groomed... my heart doesn't ache; that even though you see me smiling, dancing, or laughing, my feelings have died. That this disguised image is just another weapon to shield my pain, a bandage to cover the wounds left by your departure... and the bitter taste of your goodbye. And don't go thinking... that just because you see me looking sophisticated, modern, and well-groomed... my heart doesn't ache; it is a weapon to shield my pain. But you won't see me cry... not for you anymore; I have so much love to give, your time has passed, and even if I dress like a clown... or a lady, or a failure, I carry my sorrow deep inside. And don't go thinking... that just because you see me looking sophisticated, modern, and well-groomed... my heart doesn't ache. It is a weapon to shield my pain. I will drink my tears once more— those tears that intoxicate me and which your soul ignored; I will be a solitary bird that once flew through your sky, and got lost in a cloud searching for a new dream. Because, even though you see me looking sophisticated, modern, and well-groomed... my heart *does* ache, and this is a weapon to shield my pain; but you will never see me cry again... not for you anymore, your time has passed. Yes, it has passed... And don't go thinking... that just because you see me looking sophisticated, modern, and well-groomed... my heart doesn't ache. It is a weapon to shield my pain. But your time has passed... it has passed...
