I let you go, like every smoke of the cigarette.
I let you go, like every tree lets go of leaves.
I let you go because there's no point holding on.

But you come back.
You always do.
With sorrow heart and shaking hands... you always do.

I always let you in.
I always kiss you back.
I always lie to you, your sorrow heart and eyes of blue.
What can I do?

I let you go, like every smoke of the cigarette.
I let you go, like every tree lets go of leaves.
I let you go because there's no point holding on.

And so again I let you in and let you go.

- Elena