What happen to the carefree joy.
When the world was old, but you were young.
Where the listeners always listen.
To the troubles not lasting until the night fall.
What happen to the time where you could dream.
Where your lovers new all your names.
The things that were passing always making you sing.
Where is the feeling that tonight was the night.
That made everything seem small, but the eyes lied to hide its crime.
That they never told the truth.
All you did was learn how the world always cried.
Yet, they say the eyes never lied.