I seem to tell lies.
May my truth reside in my own silence.
I only tell lies, but to thee.
To everyone else, the truth I do not deny.
I tell myself this lie,
this lie that you'll soon be ready.
Maybe it will be tomorrow, or next week.
Telling myself, maybe you'll want to spend your life with mine
and never change your mind.
Telling myself, you'll be able to love me the way I am starting to love you.
Telling myself, that 6,000 miles isn't going to keep us apart.
Or telling myself that you won't break my heart.
I know that none of this is true,
but it's the only thing I can do
to help me get through
the pain of losing you.
