Maybe it was my fault.
Maybe I'm the problem.
I'm tired now and full of doubt.
I'm lost, stuck in this solemn.

I think I was born to be hurt.
It hurts so deep when your name I say
Maybe I'm not supposed to be loved.
Maybe this is just my price to pay.

The smoke in the window knows your name,
And the stars are tired of me describing your smile.
The ash remembers how I cried in shame,
And not fighting for you before makes me vile.

No more, I say,
As I yell at the storm.
Because if you let me, I will stay,
And forever praise your heavenly form.