| She found the records lying underneath the bed
|
| All the songs she used to sing
|
| All the songs she used to play
|
| All those words, those melodies
|
| And the promise of some kind of love
|
| And the promise of some kind of love
|
| When we lose what we love
|
| Don’t think anything will ever taste the same
|
| When we lose what we love
|
| Don’t think anything will ever feel as good again
|
| Now I know how much the anger, however much the pain
|
| Destroy only enough that enough still remains of
|
| Some kind of love, some kind of love, some kind of love
|
| Some kind of love, some kind of love, some kind of love
|
| The songs hadn’t changed, every note just the same
|
| But she played them once again
|
| All those words, those melodies
|
| Like better days past and gone, leaving her behind
|
| With the promise of some kind of love
|
| With the promise of some kind of love
|
| When we lose what we love
|
| Don’t think anything will ever taste the same
|
| When we lose what we love
|
| Don’t think anything will ever feel as good again
|
| Now I know how much the anger, however much the pain
|
| Destroy only enough that enough still remains of
|
| Some kind of love, some kind of love, some kind of love
|
| Some kind of love, some kind of love, some kind of love
|
| Some kind of love
|
| She put the records back in their place
|
| And straightened her dress, and wiped her face
|
| She closed and locked the door
|
| And left them lying on the floor
|
| And she sang
|
| Mmm, some kind of love, some kind of love
|
| Mmm, mmm, some kind of love, some kind of love
|
| Mmm, mmm, some kind of love, some kind of love |