I asked me: Could I ever love?
But I know: I could never love,
So I said 'What do you have to lose,
Just get out there and fight,
You had nothing in the start,
The harder you try to give it away,
The faster you'll want it back.'
So there I was, and all I had,
Was what I wore and this philosophy,
Clasped in my shaking hand,
I held what I could not see and I stared,
At what it was like to be me.
I asked me: Shall I ever love?
And my heart said: You shall never love.
So I carried on my way,
As I had nothing left to say,
About the matter.
I took with me my weapon, and from it I made it real,
A tangible, deadly sharp, sharp bladed knife,
That I took in my hand and I carved myself a life,
For though love may evade me,
And I will never sing my own love song,
I still have the voice of a nightingale, they told me,
So I'll sing to myself just to prove them all wrong.
I asked me: Will I ever love?
And he told me: I will never love,
That was my answer, my gift for daring,
To look into myself, and the beast that waited there.
Whoever told me I have anything worth fighting for,
I remember that was me and I think:
How much have I changed?
People say to me that inside I'm still just a child but,
What child has killed as many men as men kill men at war,
When they dare to talk to me they,
Always seem to run away from that, remember me as that one child,
With the aching eyes from the dawn of the world,
Only the three of us know what it's like,
To have known forever and be forced to learn it all again.
I asked me: Did I ever love?
And my mind said: I have never loved.
And I knew this was true,
Despite my thoughts being fickle liars in themselves,
But then I doubt myself these days,
For though I lack a beating heart do I not have blood?
Caustic and hungry, dripping, though it is,
So maybe I've been lying, and maybe I can feel,
Just less, just enough for the one.
Can I ever love?
Well maybe, I can love,
But what's the point in hope, I say,
I'll wonder, but that's all,
I'll wander, and that's all,
I told me: Someday, I might love.
