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• Artiste: infantry
• Titre: An Illness To Cure
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Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
we never speak of breaking up until we know we are together. but then again, there is no room for me. i guess i have to forget, instead of regret. but apart from being me, i know the procedure. what has never been something is now nothing for me. that what we so timidly built, is washed away again it seems. although we tried so hard there is always something to fear. maybe it's just an illness. who am i to judge? what can i possibly know about love? did we go wrong in saying we care? we've been lying to ourselves again. why am i fighting for something, that was already lost a year ago? you don't listen to what i say, coz what do i know anyway? this deep blue romance is nothing but an attempt to find a way of living that can satisfy us both, although you think there is no truth to say. what have we become at the end of the day?