Fear is the weight we carry
from the cradle straight to our graves,
and love is the treasure we bury;
pain alternates with pleasure in beautiful waves
and you've been watching me—
you say I emanate some strange magnetic power,
but don't be drawn to me;
I may be here today, but soon black moss will cover
over my dead body.
You've been a lot of places—
left me forgotten by your side—
and maybe the feeling's baseless,
but something still stirs in me when I look in your eyes,
'cause you've been kind to me;
I never quite believed you when you said it's over.
Well what is wrong with me?
I trusted you—you watched me open like a flower
over my dead body.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI