This is the last song I write for you.   This is the last night I think of you.   Your name is Victor Ching, what do you do?   I phoned you this morning you couldn’t hear me, I sent you letter you couldn’t receive.   It’s my favorite game, but I have changed.   It’s too late to say I miss you Victor Ching, and you are on your way to Stafford in UK.   I know it’s too late to say I’m fond of you.   You’ve got a girl from Singapore who you didn’t like before.   I love you when you no longer love me.   I need you when you no longer need me.   You wanted me, but you have changed already.   It’s too late to say I miss you Victor Ching…