My hands reach out to touch someone

But they know she's not there

My memory keeps running back

To one who used to care.



My heart has lost the will to live

My lips the will to smile

If heartache is the fashion

Then I guess that I'm in style.



The places I'm invited to

I never want to go

Afraid I'll see my old sweetheart

With her new love, and so.



I stay at home and walk the floor

As if it's my last mile

If heartache is the fashion

Then I guess that I'm in style.



--- Instrumental ---



My lips will miss the tender kiss

That someone else will know

My eyes will not forget the day

I stood and watched her go.



My arms will ache to hold the love

That I held for a while

If heartache is the fashion

Then I guess that I'm in style...