The never-ending story here, in my skin, felt by my consciousness, that can’t differ between the pride and the will.
Some kind of game, so serious, trying to change what was written by my own hand, what I supposed it would be my fate. Though I can’t see longer than my eyes, so I’m weak, I realised I’m not the kind of person whom will resist to my will because that, the will is the only thing which makes me live. And I, I fall, I always try to step outside your way to show my pride, my careless.
But I cannot extinguish what you once lightened in me, and I’ve told you, I’m not patience, not to wait for.
I cursed you, said goodbye, yes, seriously said goodbye. I wrote, I read, and wrote again to find only there has to be something more, and hoping not
Fight, pride, fall, to temptation, by weakness, trying to find some inner strength which would come from a sense of pride that I’m trying so hard to make mine.
But anyway, who can tell, who really are you! I know I don’t know you, and you, you just don’t know me.
Some kind of game, so serious, trying to change what was written by my own hand, what I supposed it would be my fate. Though I can’t see longer than my eyes, so I’m weak, I realised I’m not the kind of person whom will resist to my will because that, the will is the only thing which makes me live. And I, I fall, I always try to step outside your way to show my pride, my careless.
But I cannot extinguish what you once lightened in me, and I’ve told you, I’m not patience, not to wait for.
I cursed you, said goodbye, yes, seriously said goodbye. I wrote, I read, and wrote again to find only there has to be something more, and hoping not
Fight, pride, fall, to temptation, by weakness, trying to find some inner strength which would come from a sense of pride that I’m trying so hard to make mine.
But anyway, who can tell, who really are you! I know I don’t know you, and you, you just don’t know me.
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