When I have sung my songs to you, I?ll sing no more. 
?Twould be a sacrilege to sing at another door.
We?ve worked so hard to hold our dreams, 
Just you and I.
I could not share them all again I?d rather die 
With just the thought that I had loved so well, so true,
That I could never sing again, 
That I could never, never sing again,
Except to you.