And then here I am.
Did I really think this time things could be different?
Did I really feel myself that innocent?
I wonder if I did...
Even now, if I deserve this.
I ask to my pillow, I ask to my window, I just ask: why?
But there's no reply.
There's just a resounding voice in my head.
There's just my single body on my double bed.
No variation about my lonely state.
And no escape.
I end another history completely by myself,
hearing the clock mocking me on the shelf.
Isn't it funny?
Isn't it tragicomic?
Why does it hurt like this?
Don't let the world ends so soon!
I still have to kiss magic lips by the light of the moon.