Are you inlove with the one I am

or her?

why are you trying to bring the dead to life?

each time you pay a visit to her

you are dragging me along… don’t you see I am bleeding?

She, yes she was all I will be if HOPE is lost

for she was a living corpse…

You said you fell inlove with my laughter

her sound is a haunted echo…

I am here though alive and happy

and yes part of her is here,

all I don’t want to be…

I sing dance joyfully

she knows only of broken songs…

I am her and she is in me…

but I am her who choose to live…

she is the one who had no reason to breathe…

and he, yes he the one you look at

wondering if you too will belong in the past

he fell inlove with the broken one

I thought you loved the living

I can bring her, tell me is it her you want?

do you too have a thing for the broken ones?

I can bring her fourth… but not for too long

for I desire to live joyfully

cry when necessary but never

wish to vist hopelessness

I am her who choose to live

broken perhaps, for sure in the process of being repaired…

so why love? why do you keep dragging me

on broken glass visiting the past with lust?