Текст песни
Every day we try to say
What we can't and don't say what
We have to say.
We love the illusion of our real feelings,
But we never think about it.
You burn in your own dream world
She sits in the kitchen and sings so sweetly
While you write another song
About love for another girl
Remember these words,
Your days are numbered.
Two Mondays are left to say how useless it is
Your illusory love for her.
