(Springfield)

I must be blind

I can't see why

We can't work this out

It gets so tangled

When we try to talk and sort it out



There's people dying for what they believe

And I can't even choose should I stay or leave

And we're supposed to be in love



And the great lost art of conversation

Is lost on this man tonight

And the late crossed heart of good intention

Is forgotten in the heat of the fight



We count the scars to see who won

You wear them on your heart

It feels so strange you feel so numb

I thought I'd fall apart



I'll take my leave

You take your lace

Let's leave it now with some semblance of grace

No point trying to talk anymore



And the great lost art of conversation

Is lost on this man tonight

And the late crossed heart of good intention

Is forgotten in the heat of the fight



And know I won't keep holding on

I'm not that strong

End it, it's time we both moved on

No point in trying to talk anymore



And the great lost art of conversation

Is forgotten in the heat of the fight

And the late crossed heart of good intention

Is lost on this man tonight