I'm here in the stage.
I'm playing my guitar.
I see a lot of faces,
but there is not "the one".
I imagine her at home,
writing about the hole world.
Is this what time has did to us?
To tears us apart?
I remember the time we had.
I remember her smile.
I wish I could go back on time
to pause the "goodbye" for a while.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 9:01 PM UTC
I'm here in the stage.
I'm playing my guitar.
I see a lot of faces,
but there is not "the one".
I imagine her at home,
writing about the hole world.
Is this what time has did to us?
To tears us apart?
I remember the time we had.
I remember her smile.
I wish I could go back on time
to pause the "goodbye" for a while.
