My dear sweet little lady
tell me how you still feel
'cause even broken memories
are wounds that tend to heal.
You've passed through almost
everything,
cold creatures made of steel
my dear sweet little lady
tell me how you still feel.
I still can't even fathom
your strength, it seems
surreal,
'cause even when the dust was
settled
you never, ever kneeled.
My dear sweet little lady
tell me how you still feel
and know that broken memories
are wounds that always heal.
P.S
Though some nights I can hear
your silent lonely cries
they really come to show that:
from pain you always rise.
