Do you fall so short of all that’s in your heart when your friends, that you should pull up, you instead pick apart? Do you watch the world get cold, and crushed, and small? And when you could do so much, do you do fuck-all?
And, considering all this, and agreeing that it’s true, is it harder each time just to feel something new? But do you sometimes wish not to feel anymore? To wall it off? To make it all go away? To just put it to an end?
Às vezes prefiro que falem por mim.