"It always ends the same: in the dark, in the ground, in the grave. It's not the worst," you say. Don't pretend you're not afraid. If you would try and hold on.. it's not too late for you now that you're not on your own.
Can't leave me here to stay depressed, a mess, in a daze. You won't give up this way, like I know I would in your place. And then you tell me that "it's never too late for you to start again. Be careful with our friends: they never do quite what you would expect."
But you were right all along. It's not much good to me now that you're gone and I'm alone. Hear you talking all the time. "I don't regret this life."
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