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de Black Circle

Funny how I met this girl, she was across the stage
Where winning and losing felt the same way
Days turned into nights and nights turned into days
Dancing with the right steps in propane

Fuel for combustion was her bitter ways
A life of disappointing choices that she had made

Whoa!
Time and time again, her letters in my hand
She chose her words with care
I read them as I should
She wrote about stories of her everyday
I thought they were about me, but they never were

Believe me when I tell you that they all made sense
But in the end I figured they were nothing but pages

Filled with nothing but despair
Filled with judgement
Yeah! No glare
Heartless rhymes on what we said
She would go on

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