She was trapped in a photograph, when times were better,
Saying, "Cheese," with a frozen laugh, when times were better,
But now she wishes she could thaw that scene,
Make it real, not just some camera's dream,
And bring back the places, and the feelings, and the faces from the graves where they've been.

She's not afraid of the sticks and stones,
She's not afraid of the thunderstorms,
She's not afraid of the smart-bombs blowing the world in little pieces,
But she's afraid of a life alone,
She's afraid of an empty home,
She's afraid that her faith has flown,
Afraid of losing memories,
Afraid of losing memories.

She was the captain of her maiden flights, when times were better,
Skywriting with the smoke of life, when times were better,
And now she wishes she could beat her wings, and sail back on a innocent breeze,
Bring back the feeling of believing in the decency of anything.

She's not afraid of the sticks and stones,
She's not afraid of the thunderstorms,
She's not afraid of the smart-bombs blowing the world in little pieces,
But she's afraid of a life alone,
She is afraid of an empty home,
She's afraid that her faith has flown,
Afraid of losing memories,
Afraid of losing memories.

How she wishes she could strangle time, put it in a prison for stealing her blind,
Bring back her riches from the rubble of her wishes, where she's let them lie.

She's not afraid of the sticks and stones,
She's not afraid of the thunderstorms,
She's not afraid of the smart-bombs blowing the world in little pieces,
But she's afraid of a life alone,
She is afraid of an empty home,
She's afraid that her faith has flown,
Afraid of losing memories,
Afraid of losing memories,
Afraid of losing memories,
Afraid of losing memories.