She writes down her lines
There aren't many words about me.
Could be thinking these days of
A different s___e, as she said.

Pages, pages on the floor.

She writes down her lines
There aren't many words about me.
Could be thinking these days of
A different s___e, as she said.

Pages, pages on the floor.

Like a secret in her past
Normal feelings coming back

She didn't need too many things
Something to hold. Something to write
And I dont need an explanation
When it began was easy to stay
If I look back, there's nothing unfair
And I don't need an explanation at all

And now the painted sun
Is not our common background
And now the stars on the wall
They aren't shining for me anymore

Pages pages on the floor

Like a secret in her past
Normal feelings coming back

She didn't need too many things

Something to hold. Something to write
And I dont need an explanation
When it began was easy to stay
If I look back there's nothing unfair
And I don't need an explanation
I can't think with clarity
Figures looking blurred to me
I am starting to be sick of trying.

Her diary has other friends
Her diary has other songs
Her diary is not the same as mine

She didn't need too many things
Something to hold. Something to write
And I dont need an explanation
When it began was easy to stay
If I look back there's nothing unfair

And I don't need an explanation
I can't think with clarity
Figures looking blurred to me
I am starting to be sick of trying

See also:
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