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Someday
I talk to you, about the simple, little things,
but you bring up my life, so i reply "whats wrong with the life I am leading?"
So what, I am too sensitive, too caring, too affectionate,
but we all have our own wound that keeps bleeding.
"You have too much fun" you say,
but what is wrong with fun?
Maybe if you gave me something,
something to care about,
maybe I would not be nothing.
"Last time I looked in your eyes, I could not stop thinking about you. Now when I glance at you,
in your eyes there is nothing left to see."
Silence is given back to me, too many weeds in my flowerbed,
I do not know where to go, I am still blinded by your light.
But someday I will find the bravery to giht fire with fire,
someday I will find the strength to erase you.
So stop coming to me, your only a bother,
silly girl, why can't you see?
Your a thorn in my boot, just leave me be.
