White Smoke

We all have a weakness
Some of ours are easier to identify
Look me in the eye

And ask for forgiveness
We’ll make a pact to never speak
That word again, yes, you are my friend

We all have something that digs at us
At least we dig each other

So when weakness turns my ego up
I know you’ll count on the me from yesterday

If I turn into another
Dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me

Sing this song
Remind me that we’ll always have each other
When everything else is gone

Incubus- Dig

The weakness of each of us makes us so interesting.  Life wouldn’t be the same without failure. The only reason why we feel like we do, is our ability to trust. To trust in yourself is a lifetime-destination. To trust in each other is the chance of being loved. To trust delightfully in love could be your relief or your destruction. But what is it about all these sorrows? In the end we only have each other, when everything else is gone.
Everything’s gone like white smoke. Inhale the smoke in innocent lungs, exhale it into the predatory air. The white smoke floats upon your head, strokes gently your soft hair and vanishes forever. We never met, we only felt, trusting in each other’s effects.

 

 

 

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