When the curtain of night falls down,

I push open a little café door.

No one calls it "Steelheart,"

But somehow, everyone knows the name.

Behind the counter, she’s smiling bright,

That beautiful woman—Sherry.

I can’t quite meet her eyes,

But my heart’s already racing.

The clock hands keep on spinning,

Marking each little beat in time.

Without a single word between us,

We just lift our glasses and drink.

Steelheart, just a word from you—

I'd give anything to hear your voice.

But time slips right through my hands,

A fleeting love, nothing more.

Every night, I order something new,

And every time, you smile again.

Your hands craft magic without looking,

Tying my restless heart to you.

At a bookstore, a worn-out paperback—

Flipping the pages, feeling a pull,

There—your hand in a photograph,

A ring gleaming on your finger... Sherry, is it you?

Steelheart, just a word from you—

I'd give anything to hear your voice.

But time slips right through my hands,

A fleeting love, nothing more.

Steelheart, when I saw that photo,

The ring on your hand told the truth.

Inside the book you wrote yourself,

I brushed against the hand I could never hold.

As I leave the bookstore, I turn once more,

Your smile echoing against my back.

Steelheart, only that small sliver of time

Still beats forever inside of me.