I am sick of this
When will we end
Tragedy that cease's to exist
Love will not win
...
Sick Of This...
I am sick of this
When will we end
Tragedy that cease's to exist
Love will not win
We have been betryaed
By our words and hearts
Gentle spiritual moon wax and wane
Find someone else to rip apart
The battle has been lost
The lines drawn in the sand
Her heart cool's and frosts
She lets go of my hand
It was the end
In and out of love I have fell
Repetition of love goes 'round
Lonley days in a personal hell
This time I fall willingly to the ground