This is when the two souls part,
In the midst of silence and tears.
A verve of only broken-heart,
To live for the incoming years.
A destiny which is dead and cold,
A world of only empty bliss.
True was the hour that foretold,
For a life of sorrow to this.
The tears of the early morning,
Still sunk chill in thy eyes.
The prices being paid for a warning
By the likes of only bitter lies.
When the vows are all broken,
And love becomes just a name.
I hear that name being spoken,
To share its fate for the shame.
But thy life's a book written through,
Where the pages are the years.
There's good, evil, false and true,
With laughter, sweat and tears.
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