Sometimes I wonder why
The fields of love seems like a game
where I a walking piece
at a lost on what I am to find
how is it that I always end up with a sigh
while up there the one most high
just playfully throw the die for the daily moments to take place...
some steps I find one awaiting
some steps I find I'm awaiting
yet some I see myself eager to take the very next
while I see the the person on the next moving off soon...
out of my reach...
the hurting madness of the whole cycle...
I should just stick a blade into myself and end the game
and call it quits...
but yet damn it...
it isn't me...