Another evening in usual style,
You hardly speak now, and I seldom smile,
I sit here wondering all of the while
Whatever happened to us?

I can't recall when love started to wane---
No major crisis, deception or pain---
Which makes it so very hard to explain
Whatever happened to us.

We began as intelligent lovers,
We'd always mean what we say---
But maybe intelligent lovers
All wind up this way.

Sometimes I long to reach out for your hand
And ask what happened to all that we planned,
To simply tell you I don't understand
Whatever happened to us.