she's holding a secret that she'll never tellshe's holding a secret that she'll never tellcause the myth is not supposed to retirewe'd rather it lit itself on fireor overdosed in a four star hotelshe's holding a truth that she'll never revealshe's holding a truth that she'll never revealcause truth this time is an ugly childand mother and daughter may reconcilebut their faces will never healdon't go, she says, but he's sleepingshe says it to herselfdon't go, she sees herself risingpacking her suitcase with all of her shoesbut something keeps you faithfulwhen all else in you turns and runslove turns 40the morning comesshe's holding a secret that she'll never tellshe's holding a secret that she'll never tellbecause we were once cinema gods in the nightnow all we've got is lunch hour lightwhere nothing photographs welldon't go, she says, but he's sleepingshe says it to the darkdon't go, she sees herself risingdressing in silence for nothing to losebut something keeps you faithfulwhen all else in you turns and runslove turns 40the morning comes