My story is something that none of you can know, even though it has happened to every single one of you. Rolling over and conceeding that there is nothing new does not become us, because it was I that fell in love with her, my lips she kissed, it was I that felt the pain in the parting, from me death stole, my dreams abandoned new life, new dawning, all seen afreash in my eyes.

Reworking and remaking, all the old kisses, all the old partings, all the old tales. This is living, this is being alive and this is my story

It keeps us talking, keeps us being human, my story

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