Sound so silent it fills the room.
An awful sign of the already bad devotion.
A mixture of disaster in a basket case.
Worn out feelings of what used to be blessed.
Six or Nine will depends on how you see,
Perception is the word, It is the key.
I wish I had never drink the cup,
Now I know a lot of things which made me feel bad.
The more I discover colors,
The more I lose mine.
When we get closer to somebody,
The more we see their frailty.
I got closer, I saw her thorns and scars.
I just wondered how she was so beautiful in the past.
Is it because I was so shy to look at her face?
Or was just afraid she'll caught me looking.
So my mind created an image of her.
Made it so perfect I created my own reality.
And made it so real I forgot myself,
But I woke up shortly afterwards.
I would have wanted it forever.
Forgetting myself so you'll be mine.
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