It hurts and pains deep inside
through the early morning fog to see
visions of someone to be,
when someone is withheld from me.
Silence is as painless as suicide is golden
but my eyes still see many changes, if I please.
Talking is a way to make
all our little joys relate
but people follow like sheep with that
cheap and ever-present hate.
Silence is as painless as suicide is golden
but my eyes still see many changes, if I please.
How could I tell, when there was nowhere to go?
To keep cool is no painless feat.
I tried anyway, I tried, though they’ll say I lied,
but the only way to win is cheat.
Silence is as painless as suicide is golden
and your eyes can see the same thing, if you please.
