The man in the mirror
looks back at me.
His eyes are haunting to see.
I wonder if he knows
he has the same pain in his eyes
that I feel in my soul.

The man in the mirror
has lost his smile.
He's been sad and hollow
for a long, long while.
There is no love or joy in his life.
All he knows is darkness and strife.

The man in the mirror
sometimes cries
for the loved ones he's lost
and the dreams that have died.
For the laughter that faded
and the joy that bled
sometimes he mourns
and hangs his head.

The man in the mirror
is haggard and worn.
The burdens he's carried
have left him forlorn.
His shoulders are stooped,
his brow is creased.
His spirit is broken
and yearns for release.

The man in the mirror
is fading away.
He dies a little bit more each day.
When he's gone what will become of me?
Will I be lost, or will I be free?

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