اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
One was used to strike at a man
For a feeling of release
From the hate from which I ran
Each one a memory
One was used to strike at love
To make me feel like I meant
Something to the ones I didn't trust
Each one a memory
And each one felt like a broken bone
Beneath it all growing wound
Currents
Under whispers and tears
Undercurrents of fear
Realized
One was used to strike at me
To show the world I didn't care
That I couldn't feel the fear
Each one a memory
You can't expect to let the arrows
Fly without paying up the toll
These aren't arrows anymore,
This is an act of control
I don't want to spend the rest of my life
Fighting and self condemned
What's the use in ten years of scars
If you don't learn a thing from them?
