I am a writer I'm gonna write Gonna make myself A spirit of the night I am a loser I've already lost So which thought is the truth and which is false?
You think that I was born to be A tender rose beneath an oak tree But I never loved roses
I think I should let myself breathe I think I should leave myself be To sleep and dream at the end of the day
I was talking in my sleep I was talking to me I said, you're a coward She said, cowards are we There was blood between my eyes I did not know You wiped it away I said, let my wounds show
You think that I was born to be A gentle breeze above the dead sea But I wanna be oceans
I think I should let myself breathe I think I should leave myself be To sleep in peace at the end of the day
