Once upon a time your intentions were pure,
you did what you loved to do.
But after you placed a price on your soul,
your love became worthless to you.
A rich man plays with desire in his heart.
A poor man knows he’s merely playing a part.
You closed a door to the past with the choices you made,
I hope it’s worth the price that you paid.
You play without passion, you love without fire.
Why do you choose this lie?
When you make a job out of something you love
you forget why you loved at all.
For every choice there’s a consequence.
You’ve always been one to straddle the fence.
So I’m surprised to see that it’s come to this.
Can’t you see it’s the past that you’ll miss?
The rhythm is there but you’re deaf to the song.
There’s and empty place inside.
Don’t you feel just a little disappointed,
or is that what you’re trying to hide?
You play without passion, you love without fire.
Why do you choose this lie?
When you make a job out of something you love
you forget why you loved at all.
Discontented.
Disappointed.
Disavowed.
No one ever told you disappointment was not allowed.
You play without passion, you love without fire.
Why do you choose this lie?
When you make a job out of something you love
you forget why you loved at all.
You play without passion, you love without fire.
Why do you choose this lie?
You play without passion.
The illusion is yours to live.
Written by Brian & Michelle Coombes © 2002 Coombes/Coombes