When I no longer bead with sweat,
then you'll know I'll no longer fret.

When I no longer thirst for water,
then you'll know I won't get better.

When I no longer hunger for food,
then you'll know I've lost my mood.

When I no longer hear your voice,
then you'll know I have no choice.

When I no longer see stars at night,
then you'll know I no longer fight.

When I no longer can feel your soft skin,
then you'll know the kind of fix I'm in.

When I no longer remember your name,
then you'll know I've lost the game.

When I no longer taste your lips of wine,
then you'll know I'm truly dyin'.

Until then, my love, I'll keep on tryin',
and you'll know for sure I'm not lyin'.

Forgotten, and all alone.