Why do the poets of the fall lament,
Sacrificing of our beautiful souls?
The impossibility of letting some people go,
They who love you and that you know.
The pain that lives forever, but we never show,
Now I know. Yes, I know.
I am a cold old man now,
Who am I kidding? I was never fun.
But my heart has run out of love,
I have none left, to give to anyone.
I hope they who have had it,
Preserve it well,
As for me, I have always lived in the past,
That story I need not tell.
People lose their senses to their ego,
Think a lot about a better tomorrow.
But the emptiness that follows?
That never ending sorrow?
Do you now know?
'Cause now I know. Yes, I know.
Sacrificing of our beautiful souls?
The impossibility of letting some people go,
They who love you and that you know.
The pain that lives forever, but we never show,
Now I know. Yes, I know.
I am a cold old man now,
Who am I kidding? I was never fun.
But my heart has run out of love,
I have none left, to give to anyone.
I hope they who have had it,
Preserve it well,
As for me, I have always lived in the past,
That story I need not tell.
People lose their senses to their ego,
Think a lot about a better tomorrow.
But the emptiness that follows?
That never ending sorrow?
Do you now know?
'Cause now I know. Yes, I know.
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