Segunda-feira, 23 de Março de 2009

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Broken Strings

 

Let me hold you
For the last time
It's the last chance to feel again
But you broke me
Now I can't feel anything

When I love you,
It's so untrue
I can't even convince myself
When I'm speaking,
It's the voice of someone else

Oh it tears me up
I try to hold on, but it hurts too much
I try to forgive, but it's not enough to make it all okay

You can't play on broken strings
You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell you something that ain't real

Oh the truth hurts
And lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before

Oh what are we doing
We are turning into dust
Playing house in the ruins of us

Running back through the fire
When there's nothing left to save
It's like chasing the very last train when it's too late

Oh it tears me up
I try to hold on, but it hurts too much
I try to forgive, but it's not enough to make it all okay

You can't play on broken strings
You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell something that ain't real

Well the truth hurts,
And lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before

But we're running through the fire
When there's nothing left to save
It's like chasing the very last train
When we both know it's too late (too late)

You can't play on broken strings
You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel
I cant tell you something that ain't real

Well truth hurts,
And lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before


Let me hold you for the last time
It's the last chance to feel again

Gatafunhado Loira às 09:56

| Gatafunha tu
Loirice:
De Existe um Olhar a 23 de Março de 2009 às 14:01
A vida tem destas coisas, umas vezes felizes, outras totalmente destroçadas, acreditemos , porém , que nenhum dia é igual ao outro e que depois da tempestade vem sempre a bonança.
Tardiamente aprendemos que um amor que julgávamos ser eterno se desvanece sem por vezes percebermos porquê.
Mais tarde, muito mais tarde entendemos que não seria o melhor para nós.
Adorei o poema.
Beijinhos
Manu
De guiga a 23 de Março de 2009 às 16:19
Duplamente preocupada...
*.*

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