Did I chat too much?
Yet you’re strange to touch,
Memory, if it’s worthy as such?
To blame, I feel no rush,
It’s fear, or just a crutch.
Love’s blind to right or wrong as such.
It's just you, so unmindful, omitted how I felt,
t's just me, too devoted, cherished the warmth you dealt,
Your excuses, I kept as they melt.
If it’s me compromising, yielding, like a prisoner to love,
Rightly alone I bear, with echoes of what it was,
True heart offered but not fit to make it through.
If letting go means freedom, what’s the use in holding on?
Why still I’m here, clinging to the dawn?
Matching the end you wanted, my conscience finds it won.

To blame, I feel no rush,
It’s fear, or just a crutch.
Love’s blind to right or wrong as such.
It's just you, so unmindful, omitted how I felt,
It's just me, too devoted, cherished the warmth you dealt,
Your excuses, I kept as they melt.
If it’s me compromising, yielding, like a prisoner to love,
Rightly alone I bear, with echoes of what it was,
True heart offered but not fit to make it through.
If letting go means freedom, what’s the use in holding on?
Why still I’m here, clinging to the dawn?
Matching the end you wanted, my conscience finds it won.
If it’s me compromising, yielding, like a prisoner to love,
Rightly alone I bear, with echoes of what it was,
True heart offered but not fit to make it through.
If letting go means freedom, what’s the use in holding on?
Why still I’m here, clinging to the dawn?
Matching the end you wanted, my conscience finds it won.
Matching the end you wanted, my conscience finds it won.

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