In this grave hour, I have composed our final song: The last words of our love lost, of our love lost. I called your hands home for years, for years, for years, for years on end. It's become distant and I hate my helpless defiance. No. You have no problem finding me, although you only commit unintentionally, unintentionally. I do it for the Lord, I do it for Chicago. I once lived for you, and I've never ever been So wrong, wrong, wrong. x2 We keep building, building to find no release.