Another chapter of the play
And I still hear you calling out my name
I've got no reason to complain

And no reason to just be an empty space

To those who cross my way

I extend my hand
I want you to know
That I'm not MADE OF STONE


Lines appearing in my face
And I wonder if I'm just a passenger

We're all living our todays
Never seeing we all have the same blood


To those who cross my way
I extend my hand
I want you to know

That I'm not MADE OF STONE

When I hear you call my name

I extend my hand
I want you to know
That I'm not MADE OF STONE