Like an Indian with black hair
I look in the mirror and get scared
I've seen too far into my own eyes and I'm
Walkin' on and on
Walkin' on and on
Walkin' on and on my friends
Walkin' on
Broken woman made a mess out of me
I became a pillow of empathy
Old doors begin to close and I'm
Walkin' on and on
Walkin' on and on
Walkin' on and on my friends
Walkin' on
If I chose to spend my time in tears, high up on the wine
I might as well rot in a glass that holds the sands of time
I spend the day alone, mourning Gloria
Always will I curse my look when I pass her home
And she's always there
Broken woman made a mess out of me
I became a pillow of empathy
Old doors begin to close and I'm
Walkin' on and on
And on