Read it emotionless-ly. (That way, you find the right rhythm.)
Blind is this false sense of hope,
A withered dream that would not show.
But on the other side of it,
A forgotten love that could not grow.
Either way,
On either path,
Inevitably,
I'll lose the game.
Preparing these garments,
Lies and truths,
The cloaks of which should hide my shame.
Blind is this false sense of hope,
A withered dream that would not show.
But on the other side of it,
A forgotten love that could not grow.
Either way,
On either path,
Inevitably,
I'll lose the game.
Preparing these garments,
Lies and truths,
The cloaks of which should hide my shame.



