These scars?
They tell stories.
Each sadder than the next,
Each worse then the next,
Each angrier than the next.
These cuts?
They'll heal.
But only on the surface.
The marks?
They remind me of it all.
They show me was I was,
And what I might become again.
No one seems to know,
That or no ones cares.
No one does anymore.
They tell stories.
Each sadder than the next,
Each worse then the next,
Each angrier than the next.
These cuts?
They'll heal.
But only on the surface.
The marks?
They remind me of it all.
They show me was I was,
And what I might become again.
No one seems to know,
That or no ones cares.
No one does anymore.
