An echo
Another late hour of loneliness goes by
as I am reading words of someone else's love
but when I try to write some of mine
only tears and throbbing pain come out
Yet I feel like I could write
only about you and no one else ever
see, I am even writing about you...
as I am reading words of someone else's love
but when I try to write some of mine
only tears and throbbing pain come out
Yet I feel like I could write
only about you and no one else ever
see, I am even writing about you...