Chicago - The Devil Wears Prada

In this grave hour, I have composed our final song:

The last words of our love lost, of our love lost

I called your hands home for years

For years, for years, for years on end

It’s become distant and I hate my helpless defiance, no

You have no problem finding me

Although you only commit unintentionally, unintentionally

I do it for the Lord

I do it for Chicago

I once lived for you and I’ve never, ever been

So wrong, wrong, wrong, so wrong, wrong, wrong

We keep building, building to find no release