I feel alone, not a soul can understand me.
Sometimes I want to cry,
But I have to keep pretending.
Pretending to be strong, and happy; pretending that there’s nothing’s wrong.
But this is it.
Once the winters over, everything will go back to normal.
The trees will be green again, the tulips will grow again.
I hope.
This is it; we’re almost at the end.
I can see the light, shining from under the cracks
But how?
How do I get there, without losing everything I love in the process?
I can’t.
This is it, I’m at the end.
If they could do it, so could I,
It doesn’t matter what happens.
I’ll get through this, with or without you.
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