And so i move on from my vain dream
where you were the king, and I, the queen
I guess Im equal to a concubine
or a favored peasant in your admiration line
now as sickness grabs at my throat
you walk away and im left to woe
but my mind heals fast because i fear my time to go
could be nearing with much speed.
i cant help but question her reign over me
what is it that she possesses that is better than me?
tell me so that i may be free of this question that always haunts me.
every day my heart faces a black plague
of hidden resentment and anger's cage
of an abandonment so creul that my heart goes cold
broken promises arranged neatly over the grave of the trust a young girl once gave
she latched on to something that she never could grasp
your heart, if i ever had it id be tempted to treat it like trash
just as you neglected this one by shattering such a fragile heart.it was made of glass.