Last night I fell in love without you.
I waved goodbye to that heart of mine beating solo on your lawn.

Every aching wound will cauterize and bruise,
In memory of what we used to call "in love."
And only time will tell if violins will swell,
In memory of what we used to call, "in love."
We used to call it: "love."

Last night I fell in love without you.
The Coup De Grace that set me off would have made for decent fiction.

Every aching wound will cauterize and bruise,
In memory of what we used to call "in love."
And only time will tell if violins will swell,
In memory of what we used to call, "in love."
We used to call it:

Last night I fell in love without you.
The stars at night aren't as big and bright as you make them out to be.

And every aching wound will cauterize and bruise,
In memory of what we used to call "in love."
And only time will tell if violins will swell,
In memory of what we used to call "in love."
In memory of when we used to call it: "love."