I would love to run freely, into his arms
Grasping to him, who does me no harm.
He never has and never will
So, why am I here, standing still?
He opens his heart and I know where he stands
And I know my heart would be well, in his hands.
If he were to leave and I did not chase
Down the road, I feel there is something I'd face.
The stab by the conscience in which I confide.
The culprit of my heart's suicide.
To imagine my heart there on the ground
Knowing, that I used to have him, around.
Knowing that I allowed him to move on
That I am the reason that good man is gone.
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