In this grave hour, I have composed our final song: The last words of our love lost. (of our love lost) I called your hands home for years, for years, for years, for years on end. It's become distant and I hate my helpless defiance. No.... You have no problem finding me, although you only commit unintentionally. (unintentionally) I do it for the Lord, I do it for Chicago. I once lived for you, and I've never ever been so wrong (wrong), wrong, so wrong (wrong), wrong. We keep building, building to find no release.