When a rose is in my hand, it dies
Everytime you leave, I cry
The constant worrying I do
Who you're with
Is our love true?
Were we meant to be? Just you and me?
Are you truly happy with my being me?
Nothing can ever be too sure, right?
There is some kind of healing tool, a cure, right?
I find myself thinking about us at night
Whether we were destined or not
I am afraid to let you go, because the though of being alone scares me...
So I ask myself;
Were we meant to be? |
