I've heard your voice carried on the breeze.
Speaking words to me I never understood,
but thought I did.
I followed behind you, trying to tie all the strings up that you had just gotten off my hands.
I make a habit of undoing whats been done, of throwing myself into the fires that have been stamped out.
Somehow you still decide to take the time to pull me out of them, to free me again.
I don't know how you do it, or how I deserve it.
I've said this same thing a million times, and the words always come out the same.
Slowly, your words are beginning to make sense to me, or at least I think so...