We might have met in August,
such an expected incident
I held the crown with one hand
as I play the king of games
We made friends, we told tales,
and soon agreed to flee
That with the trust that I gave you,
I let you held the key
For a friend was my illusion,
like happy insanity
You were there, you made it real,
I was taught to laugh and play
But then again, as old men says,
nothing stays the same
I was wrong, or, you got caught,
I was sure that you gave up
That the only thing that I have left,
was in your hands instead
And you played king with my crown and keys,
I did felt the shame
That I hoped, and that I wished,
that maybe it's okay to lead
That maybe I can grow and make dreams,
that I'd become a friend
That someday I'd make keys,
and make a happy place
But it was all just a dream,
now a broken memory
You made me grow, you built me up,
and shattered me in place
I sit here and this I write,
as a broken masterpiece.
Some people convince themselves that they are saving you while saving themselves.
