It didnt get us anywhere. We called the help line to confess our crimes, There wasnt anybody there.
Like a self-portorat of Vincent Van Gough, Like a traveler in the rain, Like a mother finally letting go, We all learn to live with pain.
It's strange, so strange, this pain,
The fortune tellers they forge the future, They never give you the bad news, But Im still here with you.
Like a self-portorat of Vincent Van Gough, Like a traveler in the rain, Like a mother finally letting go, We all learn to live with pain.
It's strange, so strange, this pain, This pain that I love, that I love.
It's strange, so strange, this pain, This pain that I love, that I love.