The last little things are aching
The old vision is breaking
The last cry is echoing
And youre still trying
To live someone elses life
To take someone elses luck
But you cant get
The beautful soul you got
Singing with your own voice
Singing your own bad luck
And you still not realise
That Im nothing that hurts you
Want to taste so much
Taste to how it is to have that luck
Youre perfect because you not
Youre beautiful because you not
And I cant get enough
Of your bad luck
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem