the original (Lies, lies, lies)

isn't it strange then, how we learned things about one another?
i am always sad and you'd never known that before.
it's like a maze, the unwinding tires, through swinging trees.
The blur of gold scattering itself through my soul.
paint on our arms, instead of the wounds
and though my eyes are old and faded
they are burning bright
because of you.