We almost had it;
Almost a love story.
We could have had,
All the four letters,
Of that very word.
Loneliness is where I live without you;
Opposing me are the memories of you;
Violent nightmares come on through;
Everything seems so dead and blue.
Now in dreams we meet,
Although not so merry,
It is not so much sad.
I should ask the painters,
To paint you my world.
Love me like I love you right now;
Only then, shall we find out how;
Vicious hatred and curses we can escape,
Even if our hearts for each other they rape