Itâs not his fault that he canât love
an empty shell, a dull portrait
of our borderline connection.
For me, heâll always be the boy
that held me tight against the wind,
in front of a big ocean, swore his heart
to open, to protect, to fight. For us.
Not anymore, I cried my bloody tears,
I paid the price, I did my part!
Not anymore! I scream to waves
that carry my nostalgia away. I canât.
Love ...
