I make my way through all those lies,
I make my way through stuff,
And as the sun on the horizon dies,
I stumble upon the memories gone rough,
Hear as the sweet old memory cries,
Smell the stale odour of times less tough
And as i catch the running ends of broken ties,
I wonder if for misery , wasn't it enough that it just wasn't enough ?
I make my way through stuff,
And as the sun on the horizon dies,
I stumble upon the memories gone rough,
Hear as the sweet old memory cries,
Smell the stale odour of times less tough
And as i catch the running ends of broken ties,
I wonder if for misery , wasn't it enough that it just wasn't enough ?
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