Junior Healy - Jain McGonagall - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

As I mark the final stroke of an intricately forgettable signature, I am greeted with an, oh, so familiar feeling. Nothing is accomplished, and nothing will ever be accomplished.

I’ve spent decades at this desk, while the pages produced fall to failure after failure.

I have never succeeded, and I will never succeed.

I’ve written the same barely heart felt words that vaguely express how I feel, but ensure that no one could ever know me.

I’ve ensured that I can never know me, and I’m hiding from my own pen. I’ m hiding from my own poem, and we only hide in fear.

All the thoughts I tried so hard not to think,

all the words I didn’t dare to write down,

all the actions stifled by a memory of morals are the real me.

I think that’s why I’m still hiding. I think afraid to meet him. As I take the final breaths of anintricately forgettable life, I am greeted with an unfamiliar feeling.

This feeling is going to end, but I'm gonna know what it felt like.

Maybe sorrow is all this will bring,

but I'm gonna know how it got there.

My soul was once reincarnated as a poet.

His life was as sad as his prose uninspired. He saw holes in his words and filled the spaces with his love for what had left, but he never wrote of home.

Just pages of hearts, broke. You’ll never find the love of a man who has the heart of a poet; they're already broken.