No more tears, my heart is dry
I don’t laugh and I don’t cry
I don’t think about you all the time
But when I do I wonder why
You have to go out of my door
And leave just like you did before
I know I said that I was sure
But rich men can’t imagine poor
One day baby, we’ll be old
Oh baby, we’ll be old
And think about the stories that we could have told
Little me and little you
Kept doing all the things they do
They never really think it through
Like I can never think you’re true
Here I go again — the blame
The guilt, the pain, the hurt, the shame
The founding fathers of our plane
That’s stuck in heavy clouds of rain
One day baby, we’ll be old
Oh baby, we’ll be old
And think of all the stories that we could have told