The trace of last night's teardrops is still upon her cheeks
A monument of mis'ry where she cried herself to sleep
The stain of last night's good times is still upon your shirt
The shirt will wash her tears will dry but what about the hurt
You can't remove the mark of hurt with anything you say
It leaves a scar inside her heart that words can't wash away
Someday you'll reap the harvest of the bitter seeds you've sown
And mem'ries of those good times won't help you when she's gone
You'll see those stolen moments for everything thye're worth
The price you pay for thrills are cheap but what about the hurt
You can't remove the mark of hurt...
Someday you'll reap the harvest...