I'll send us to separate graves. May our only marks be where we lay to rest. You're digging up what should stay buried.
Something is breaking, of this I'm sure. Give me your heart and nothing more.
Some paths weren't meant to walk alone. Days spent searching for some kind of home have left me afraid of death, because I will never know what's waiting behind that door.
Something is breaking, of this I'm sure. Give me your life and nothing more.
I've been trying to say what escaped me to this day:
I always wondered where you'd waste away. I no longer hope it is beside me. Of all the things I have left to say, I'll leave it at "I'm sorry."