Gunshot was what I heard,
Bullet was what hit me,
Pain was what I felt,
Blood was what I tasted,
And your shadow was what I last saw.
Why take in the bullet for that man,
For that man who walks away,
Leaving your cold body behind?
Why love someone who does not love you?
Why miss someone who does not miss you?
Maybe it's because,
The warmth that I've last felt,
Was his.
