Waking up in the fog, the dust and the pain. And of the sunny days no traces remain.How could you be the one if you sail away. Without you I can’t stand the sound of the rain. (1)
And I'm a writer, writer of fictions. I am the heart that you call home. And I've written pages upon pages. Trying to rid you from my bones. (1)
Ashen clouds obscure my brain. Doubts begin to turn to shame. Insecurity tears at bliss. I hate myself for this weakness. (1)
There's nothing to keep me sane, and it's all the same to you. There's nowhere to set my aim, so I'm everywhere. (1)
