It's hard to forget
The days where we try to forget
All things need to forget
For us to stay together

We show same affections
Egos, perfections we can't forget
As if our love was perfect
As if these made our bond be stronger

We tired of using it
No charges of excitement at all
You lose me, I lose you
Maybe we meant to be repelled

The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple’s a rose,
And the pear is, and so’s
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only knows
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose—
But were always a rose.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

A day seems dark
Night still dark
Yet I smile,
Trying to make a light

I want loneliness,
I want sadness,
It seems it's my happiness,
A melancholic happiness

Everybody making fun,
Someone worries
I worry someone
I pretend to make fun of everybody

I was born to die
I lived to leave
I'm guess I'm ready
Burden won't become steady

It is hard,
It is painful
Not for me,
But for my everybody

I sit here, sometimes lying
Crying in the inner
Not in the outer,
It will be a forever cycle