When I tell you I'm tired
The trouble is my bed
It doesn't seem to fit right
Without the outline of your head

When you tell me you're tired
The trouble is what's said
Typically in times of trouble
Your patience rests instead

When I tell you I'm sorry
The truth is I don't know
My intentions never crooked
Though my weakness always shows

When you tell me you're sorry
The truth is hidden low
You overthrow my worries
Keep tradition and just let go

When I tell you I'm leaving
What I mean is I'm holding on
Staring at the unmarked path
Reluctant to move along

When you tell me you're leaving
What you mean is you've already gone
So far down the crossroads
You can't make right from wrong

I
still hear
voices
but now
we all get along.

Happiness takes courage
and understanding that
not everything
will be golden.

You have to sometimes
accept
what seems to be
silver and bronze...

And usually,

it's all worth
the same
in the end.