How is it possible to have so many beautiful memories
with a person
and then one day
to have them all burned and reduced to ashes?

How is it possible for the person sharing these memories
with you
to be the one striking the match?

I thought that my tears alone
would be enough to put the roaring flames out,
but I discovered that it was a two-person job,
and he wasn't crying.

So it burned
The fire raged

And now we're nothing but grey ash

You said that you didn't want
to lose me
but what is this
if it is not loss?

It isn't love
It isn't happiness
It isn't good

If you think that what we have now isn't loss
then you are even more stupid than I thought

You said that you didn't want to lose me
but you are the one that cut the cord

-Can you remember the last place you had it? That is the question of lost things-

We all tell lies, lies so deep
We all have secrets that aren't ours to keep
We all have feelings we're battling with,
Decisions to make, to die or to live?
Deep inside of us all there is a fear, that the only way to be happy is to cut yourself ear to ear
The worst part of it all is that even when we think we do we have no one to call
So go now, get out of this well, but whatever you do don't take the wrong road or you'll end up in hell
The devil will ask how you know your way around the halls of hell, and you'll reply by saying, I don't need a map to navigate a darkness I know so well.