الكلمات الأصلية
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Outside,
I can see your breath
But you're not there,
And mine is hardly left
Twilight,
Feels the morning press
And every star is seamed with your duress
Inside,
I can hear each step
But they're not yours,
A sleepless dream at best
Black skies,
Flow to auburn reds
To wake the night and of me what is left.
If I don't want to see you
It's because it hurts to much
All this time spent wondering
If I was just a crutch.
If I don't want to see you
It's cause it hurts too, much
Was I just a crutch?
