It's the soft wind against my hair
the light breeze against my face...
With each kiss
of ice...
Screams pierce the night
ripping me from my sleep...
I touch the keys
lightly at first...
For everything in one's life
just becomes too much...
They started off as pretty pictures
flowers, trees you and me...
That Sunday
it came...
I hate the fact I'm sad
I always thought I'd never give in...
Every year she plants a rose for you
every year she cries too...
In a time of mess, in a world of tears, you put your trust in me, to take away your fears. |
For every start, it has an end. |
Never wonder, it gets you into more trouble... |