I'll be honest, I wasn't devastated
But you could've held my hands through this, baby
Let my mind run underneath warm jets
I run my hands through what's left
But we're getting older, baby
Don't have much longer, baby
Why am I preaching
To this choir, to this atheist?
Just like mine, versions of these belong to you
After a while
They're keeping me close to you

(Just like me, they long to be)
(Close to you)

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Downtown Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Songtrust Ave, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Burt F. Bacharach, Christopher Breaux, Hal David, Josiah Sherman