Was it me, kicking at stones to hit inside emotions?
Was it you, digging up pain that should have been burried ages ago?
Or is it that times and places, twisted faces and different races,
made wounds so deep that they can't be erased?
Your accusations are wrong, well I think they are wrong.
If I didn't mean to do harm, is the harm never done?
Did we all loose the game, undecided who won,
should we just forget and go on? What is wrong about that?
When something still hides in the dark, and we are afraid to face
the monsters under the bed, aren't they there? Is it all in your head?
But I know, you will never see me as your lover, your saviour nor your brother.
And you will never be mine, while we are poining at eachother.
