I walk a street
With no light
A sign saying
Broken Dream Street
Why am I here?
I don't understand
My dream not broken
Not that I know of
But are they?
Are they broken?
I can’t tell anymore
Why can’t I tell?
Why?
Why?
I don't want to be here
On the broken dream street

This is my song
This is who I am
I’m not going stop singing
Till everyone hears its
This is my song
One that holds my pain
The one that the word are my darkness
That I hid inside  
Please listen to it
Because
This is my song

When you 'whispered'
You talked
Out loud with your friends
When I sat in the desk next to you
You said
'She is lame and she should die'
I cried that night
Not a minute of sleep
And you laugh with your friends
'She looks like a ***'
And walked on
Now you’re here
Next to me at a place
Where nothing will happen like that here
You say you story
And tried to not look at me
Ten years later
You finally noticed how it feels
What you said just slap you
Back in the face

As the rain hits
My face
As I stand above you
Looking at the grass
That now cover you
My heart broke
I can’t tell you good news
Can’t run to you
When I’m crying
No longer able to laugh
At your jokes even when
I think its lame
I look up and saw nothing thought
You were there next to me
But you’re not
The rain hits my face
Hiding my tears

My lips
Have said a lot
In the past years
Some bad that can rot something
Many sad that made people cry
Ton happy to stop those tears
Few secrets here and there
Some gossip that I shouldn’t had said
Lies that now I regret
But some I’m glad of
These rose red lips of mine
They can be a curse
But be a gift intend
My lips

She cries for help
But everyone turns
No one will help
Lace is trying to hide them
But is failing so
They still show
She keeps to herself
All by herself
But share with one
No one will come
She cries for help
But lights turn off
Now blue light
Shine the room
And young life
Is now gone
No one would help
She will never cry again

Why does everyone talk?
About a way of life
With a sad tone
Should we talk?
With a happy tune
A way to remember them
The sound of their Laugh
The warmth of their smile
The comfort of their hug
The shine in their eyes
Or even the way they lived
If we talk about it happily
We are considered a ******
A ****** for remembers them
Happily
I don’t understand that
Everyone talks about a way of life
With a sad tone
It has become normal
It’s seen in a sad way
Why not a way to remember
The time we spend with them
Happily