The purpose i cannot see
why my fingers long to weep
the unsaid tales
when i think, there is nothing to feel
when i think, there is nothin to grieve
but when words touch my paper
they fall in love
i cannot write like you do
or like they did
but
as long as my pen writes
i know there is something i feel inside
and something wakes up the moment
i decide to embrace sweet slumber
it makes a promise
that i will still have the same heart i have tonight
and i will keep on loving
as i do...
why my fingers long to weep
the unsaid tales
when i think, there is nothing to feel
when i think, there is nothin to grieve
but when words touch my paper
they fall in love
i cannot write like you do
or like they did
but
as long as my pen writes
i know there is something i feel inside
and something wakes up the moment
i decide to embrace sweet slumber
it makes a promise
that i will still have the same heart i have tonight
and i will keep on loving
as i do...
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