Roots Beneath My Feet
de Under an Old Tree
What a waste, I feel empty,
Shamefaced, I am sorry.
I hate myself for being here
Trying to forget a pain
Coming from myself.
Can't I wake up, get up, stand up?
What kind of man am I?
Give me time to gather my thoughts:
I want to collect myself!
But I think now, looking back,
That my life's always been dark.
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