Fear is the weight we carry from the cradle straight to our graves, and love is the treasure we bury; pain alternates with pleasure in beautiful waves
and you've been watching me— you say I emanate some strange magnetic power, but don't be drawn to me; I may be here today, but soon black moss will cover
over my dead body.
You've been a lot of places— left me forgotten by your side— and maybe the feeling's baseless, but something still stirs in me when I look in your eyes,
'cause you've been kind to me; I never quite believed you when you said it's over. Well what is wrong with me? I trusted you—you watched me open like a flower