I put myself in dead mode
Killing stupid dreams and stupid hopes
I've got to clean this mess around
So I can die in a soft ground
I put myself in liar mode
Keeping on the lies I'd told
I met the Truth, she wasn't kind
She accused me of being blind
I put myself in hidden mode
I hide the pain, I hide the cold
I hide who I am, I hide what I like
I don't even care what's happening inside...
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1 comment:
E eis que você posta o poema com a frase mais linda do mundo!
"I met the Truth, she wasn't kind. She accused me of being blind."
E eu vou roubar esse poema pra mim porque ele é muito perfeito.
Let's play dead, sweetheart.
It might be a good way to survive...
Luv ya. =***
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