Down the long dusty road I walk
wondering where I shall next end up.
With me I carry nothing but pride,
pride that shall not be quenched easily.
I remember you and all our times;
Such thoughts can only make me cry.
Time after time I ask myself
why my destiny was so cruel.
Although I know itís not my fault,
I canít help but feel it inside.
This hurt flows from deep beyond;
Perhaps it was I that made us cry?
You said you wanted me, loved me
and made me feel needed.
Now painful memories are all I hold,
Deceits, distrust and paper roses you gave,
Where all I offered was love and peace;
No, it was not I who made us cry.