Lovers leave their traces like jets across the sky
They find in all those faces, lines they recognize
My keepsakes have there places
At the back of a drawer
Or slipped between pages and stuck on a shelf

But I'm still in love
I'm still in love
I'm still in love
With nothing but myself

Yes, sometimes I remember
The way they signed their names
And always in December, I feel some kind of shame
The heart, it stays so tender
I reminisce like a hangman wishing his prisoners well

But I'm still in love
I'm still in love
I'm still in love
With nothing but myself

And I know their mother's ages
And I know all the stories so well
And I know I'll see their faces in Hell
So wipe away their traces
Blow the dust off of the shelf

Because I'm still in love
I'm still in love
I'm still in love
With nothing but myself