Sometimes I feel I know strangers Better than I know my friends Why must a beginning Be the means to an end? The stones from my enemies These wounds will mend But I cannot survive The roses from my friends.
What started as a whisper Slowly turned into a scream Searching for an answer Where the question is unseen I don’t know where you came from And I don’t know where you’ve gone Old friends become old strangers Between the darkness and the dawn
