I laid out the past and I turned over the pages.
I crossed out every word of love.
Every old yellow page touches my heart, she wasn't mine.
Love has became a novel which is written meaninglessly.
She wasn't mine, let her not be.
I shall forget, even if she never mentions my name,
it doesn't matter. She didn't ask about me, let her not ask.
She didn't follow my tracks, don't let anyone intervene.
There's no way of going back.
She wasn't mine, let her not be.
I shall forget, even if she never mentions my name,
it doesn't matter. She didn't ask about me, let her not ask.
She didn't follow my tracks, don't let anyone intervene.
There's no way of going back.
I laid the past out and turned the dusty pages.
I underlined every word her name was mentioned.
Every old yellow page touches my soul, she never knew me.
Love has become a novel which is read without understanding any meaning.
She wasn't mine, let her not be.
I shall forget, even if she never mentions my name,
it doesn't matter. She didn't ask about me, let her not ask.
She didn't follow my tracks, don't let anyone intervene.
There's no way of going back.
She wasn't mine, let her not be.
I shall forget, even if she never mentions my name,
it doesn't matter. She didn't ask about me, let her not ask.
She didn't follow my tracks, don't let anyone intervene.
There's no way of going back.