my brain is racked like a throat, cannot scream without another breath.
my heart is weak like an overrun horse, it needs a chance to breath, to rethink.
the breath is sacred, just like a chance to rethink.
the chance feels like days, the horse grows lonesome, the heart mends. stop saying that you know what's right for me, that we are the same.
stop saying that we are the way we are, that we cannot change.
stop telling me that i've had my chance, that i am too late.
cause you can't tell me what i've got to say