you now what to do but can you really do it
your heart burns like a match just lit
it tears you apart till you cant take no more
you whish to yourself 'i want to be 4'
to start again and get it all right
so you can win this endless fight
but when do whishes ever come true
ive herd of little and of few
so your here standing with the glass
just like your up in front of the class
but this time is diffrent
theres nio bell
times are hard but there's nothing to tell
the bottle is close but out of reach
your mind is like a pabble drifting on the beach
your hands begin to shake
as the pain is too much to take
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem