My hands reach out to touch someone
But they know she's not there
My memory keeps running back
To one who used to care.
My heart has lost the will to live
My lips the will to smile
If heartache is the fashion
Then I guess that I'm in style.
The places I'm invited to
I never want to go
Afraid I'll see my old sweetheart
With her new love, and so.
I stay at home and walk the floor
As if it's my last mile
If heartache is the fashion
Then I guess that I'm in style.
--- Instrumental ---
My lips will miss the tender kiss
That someone else will know
My eyes will not forget the day
I stood and watched her go.
My arms will ache to hold the love
That I held for a while
If heartache is the fashion
Then I guess that I'm in style...
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