There are somethings
That even I can't see,
But, those are the things
That I'd want others to believe.
Maybe it's stupid
And naive of me,
To realize that these things
Have no great divinity.
Little things that
I want few people to know
Are what distract me,
And trouble the most.
So, I deal with them
Like I deal with my pen,
Means, I write them down,
And remember then,
That these are the things
That bother me,
I mustn't think of them,
And let myself be.
You know it's true, when he sings this out to you.
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