Are these the final cries of our aching souls?
How come yours don't make a sound?
With broken wings we're falling faster as we go.
But somehow we don't touch the ground.
You had me torn into pieces,
you got inside my head.
But I'll be here until it's over.

I'm still broken.
I took you in with arms wide open.
My color fades to gray, there's nothing left to say.

I will not cry, I will not break,
I will not fall, still it's all too late.


Plan Three 30/9! :)