I've been so afraid, my love, I must confess so afraid I've given in to this sickness of invisibility I exist now only in a memory I fear the simplest things like waking from a dream Because I somewhat can't find a firm grip on reality I view myself as an old friends whom I once loved but no who is dead And I just can't face my own grave, wilted flowers in hand, mourning something I have quite lost yet.
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Copy to Clipboard: I've been so afraid, my love, I must confess so afraid I've given in to this sickness of invisibility I exist now only in a memory I fear the simplest things like waking from a dream Because I somewhat can't find a firm grip on reality I view myself as an old friends whom I once loved but no who is dead And I just can't face my own grave, wilted flowers in hand, mourning something I have quite lost yet.
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