When I speak, images flash before my eyes,
the black hole behind the window tells me the truth.
Just the thought of you, makes my head spin,
the expression on your face, made me even more confused.
When you talk, it's like a comforting place,
but the untouched grass shows me how you feel.
Just the fact that this wasn't even close enough for you,
the words, they sound so different, like it actually is no big deal.
Maybe not to you, or even me,
but on a deep unconscious level I feel prisoned.
Not the perfect explanation, I know so well,
just don't think there's something when there really isn't.
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De foutloze versie.
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Used to be: D@MP | Wat jouw dromen zijn, interesseert me niet.
Laatst gewijzigd op 28-11-2002 om 20:08.
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