In life, there's one truth, in love there's none
You ask why?
Because, death is real, but ghosts are fiction
And yet, skeletons in the closet of your skin
Do they ever stop haunting?
In life, there's one truth, in love there's none
You ask why?
Beacuse, birth is real, but beginnings are fables
And yet, stories in the novel of your skin
Do they ever find closures?
In life, there's one truth, in love there's none
You ask why?
Because, existences are real, but happily ever afters are make-beliefs
And yet, the goosebumps in the imagined spaces of your skin
Do you ever stop chasing?
In a life of beings, we've been drowning to the love of stories
And stories are not about truths; stories are about climaxes
And you are the climax of your own story and the anticlimax elsewhere; for the rest you are but a mere chapter or a stanza maybe
And what do you get when you weigh truths, life against love?
And what do you get when you divide one by none?
You ask why?
Because, death is real, but ghosts are fiction
And yet, skeletons in the closet of your skin
Do they ever stop haunting?
In life, there's one truth, in love there's none
You ask why?
Beacuse, birth is real, but beginnings are fables
And yet, stories in the novel of your skin
Do they ever find closures?
In life, there's one truth, in love there's none
You ask why?
Because, existences are real, but happily ever afters are make-beliefs
And yet, the goosebumps in the imagined spaces of your skin
Do you ever stop chasing?
In a life of beings, we've been drowning to the love of stories
And stories are not about truths; stories are about climaxes
And you are the climax of your own story and the anticlimax elsewhere; for the rest you are but a mere chapter or a stanza maybe
And what do you get when you weigh truths, life against love?
And what do you get when you divide one by none?
