I was driving under clouds of fire that day,
tapping my feet down hard about today.
I could relate with what i heard.
I held a flower on my way back which I gave to you,
the only one I'd pull a life for.
You probably won't remember this.
You probably won't remember the way you looked at me,
this moment I saved like a picture in my head.
I live it everyday, baby. Everyday.
And I am back here, looking to find the picture of then desperately.
And there's no fire, just the sun bright, the land dry, the mountains died...
but the worst is, that you are no longer mine.
Scars stay on my face permanately now,
as I rot cold and dead inside.
You're not there to make me smile.
Angry between my eyebrows.
Pain has turned to hate into my once curious eye.
Have nobody to kill for anymore but plenty reasons to die.
I don't stop tapping my feet down because I need to feel like I'm still alive.
They still remember everything.
They aren't over it after all this time,
they never will.
Here's one forever I will know.
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