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