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