She's holding a secret that she'll never tell
She's holding a secret that she'll never tell
Because the myth is not supposed to retire
We'd rather it lit itself on fire
Or overdosed in a 4-star hotel

She's holding a truth that she'll never reveal
She's holding a truth that she'll never reveal
Because truth this time is an ugly child
And mother and daughter may reconcile but their faces will never heal

"Don't go," she says, but he's sleeping—
She says it to herself: "Don't go."
She sees herself rising
Packing a suitcase with all of her shoes
But something keeps you faithful
When all else in you turns and runs
Love turns 40
The morning comes

She's holding a secret that she'll never tell
She's holding a secret that she'll never tell
Because we were once cinema gods in the night
And now all we've got is lunch-hour light
Where nothing photographs well
"Don't go," she says, but he's sleeping—
She says it to the dark: "Don't go."
She sees herself rising
Dressing in silence for nothing to lose
But something keeps you faithful
When all else in you turns and runs
Love turns 40
The morning comes