I was starting to shake from the days I've been up. There's a lot on my plate and the ones I loved stopped answering. They left me to find myself in my own hate. I work all alone with a cynical taste and the day I get out is the day I'll be made. I was cut out of stone and carved with a blade. Head down with all of my hardships. There's nothing too strong that I can't face. Don't stop 'till you finally have it. It should be more like a habit.
Come down; all the fighting's over. I let you breathe your own air. I will set my arms down in a corner. When I turn around, you will tell me how you're up now from your dream of clovers. Said, Not a thing will compare to the sense you give me and disorder when you turn around and I can't breathe.
There wasn't a trace of the war letting up and the days went on late; I struggled and I fell to solid ground. It led me to my escape. Now, here I am outside of your gate. I was hoping you could..
Well, I came to say sorry. I shouldn't have left, but my bitterness got to me before you did and now I'm laying in gardens where we start over again. I know that you got me and this is it.