| You became one of them, broken relationships, like a pencil,broken in two, I keep on writing the scrip of my life, the same old story, the same bittersweet strife. When will the war end? When will the mending begin? I believed in Prince Charming, no more, its a good thing, every Prince Charming, walked out the door. Self pity runs down my window pane, outside the glass of my heart, like tormenting rain. I stare out across the sea, I wrap my myself against, the cold blowing wind, stumbling into the lighted tavern, cold warming numbness, the pain is gone, even singing miseries song. |