It'll Never Be Me - Philippe DeBarge, The Pretty Things

Sad eyes turn away from the looking glass

Fingers trace the lines of the years have passed

Smears of lies upon the lips of someone standing by

(yeah)

No It’ll never be me looking at you that way

No it’ll never be me looking at you that way

Mother keeps a photogragh of a child thats dead

The child of the fading name thats never said

White fantasies of the child’s life is spinning round this mother’s head

No It’ll never be me looking at you that way

No it’ll never be me looking at you that way

Face pressed is against the window of an early train

Arms twist out the message of unspoken plain

You wipe away a tear and then it starts to rain

No It’ll never be me looking at you that way

No it’ll never be me looking at you that way