My eyes are weak
My dreams are dark
They say love is blind
Can’t see the real her
Things falling apart
But I’m stocked here
Will the shining light rise?
Or will my story remain same?
My eyes are weak
My dreams are dark
They say love is blind
Can’t see the real her
Things falling apart
But I’m stocked here
Will the shining light rise?
Or will my story remain same?