Текст: Querencia. The World's Smallest Violin.

know this,i never meant to hurt you. that the sparkle in your eye is just a figment of my mind. turn pale, nearly every time we speak. words are stripped of meaning, can't wake the dead with poetry. there's always something left to say! when i recite these simple words that can't describe you. our darkest days, are laid to rest buy locking them inside. and every night we've held dear has a way of ending. (noteworthy lines crossed out and revised, a rewritten edit, confide) when the sun returns, my heart screams to you to answer from the grave. but i can't find comfort in the threat of time. its the killer of the king, pressing mountains into seas, making deserts out of trees, lives becoming history. to heal the wounds we kiss. the blood stains my lips. the sour taste of it makes me sick. this is the end of all time. this is the end of hope. into nothing, surrender. we can walk away without looking back, that's always how it begins, but it's always the end, and it's always ending, and i'm a broken machine but I'm ready.