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When my grandmother was sick, I used to carry her groceries home for her To get there, I had to climb this hill with a park on it I walked the same way every day You will know how this feels One day, because I wanted the best for myself I tried out a new route through the park It went underneath this bridge decorated with statues of famous Italian poets And bits of graffiti on it that said shit like: "end back pain" Underneath the bridge, which was basically 500 years old, was this enormous puddle that covered the whole path I jumped over it Time passed And I started to hate the new route as much as I hated the old one I hated it because it seemed like such a waste of energy And I hated myself because I'd chosen to live my life like this But I still use the route even after my grandma died I don't know why, really I was into detours and compulsive behaviours, I guess Do you get the picture? One day, around the time that we are moving back to London I took that route again But the crazy thing is- is that the puddle wasn't there And I just stood like a stunned chicken, high for the first time in my life, and jumped Time passed I wanted the best for myself, you see? Letras de cancionesThe wind blew me all around the world It was loathsome And I loved it I loved to die, and to be undone I ignored letters that said "do not ignore" I waggled my cup and asked for more I ran laughing into the fire, but I didn't burn Because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me Every time I had a thought of any sort at all I asked myself the same questions Is any of this real? Is any of this true? Is it going to be like this forever? The answers were no, of course Summer came eventually Autumn after that Then Winter Then Spring Then Summer again You get the picture Since being told to abandon all hope of rescue I have decided to rescue myself The body If divided in two, cannot survive But the mind can God grasps my eyes the grip [?] And my soul takes care of the rest Time turns our lies into truth And they fit Not like a boot, but more like a glove You see the door is behind you, and it opens if you turn the handle You break in, and then you break out, and then you break up And the gentle sort of pain that follows you, is just the part of you that is still listening to the music Don't let go of it If you don't have to, don't leave it all behind From Letras Mania