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by Oliver Stevenson Sep 28, 2004 category : Sadness, depression / about depression
Because of all the pain I caused, My own heart might as well be mauled, I cannot do anything right, I can only just stand for the fight. Flying away is my only door, The windows and paths, there are no more, As I wonder across the land, I look at when I held your hand. You’re all alone now, walk through the door, The last time I did, I lived no more.