The charred remnants of remaining leftovers What shall come to pass shall come to be A white seagul, a shining star lost at sea Some say the youth never knows it's full potential For me the difference is, so I guess, quite fundamental Some say love comes to those who believe But these are the same people that deceive They gag and blind the spark that lives in some of us Yet, they are right, a spark is not a big plus With a spark, I drew a red, round crayon sign It became a heart on a piece of paper for the love of mine But no matter how I try, I can't remember who she was? Who was she, this love that at the time none could surpass? One of the faces, lined in a row of my past Blown away, the fantasies that were not meant to last To truly love is to be totally and truly alive So I guess I've truly lived for two weeks, ah jive Throughout the days I've lost myself, the inner bliss Fortunately, that is not so bad if you have little to begin with.
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