Tell me, what's the point in learning how to walk on water
When I've been to hell and now my feet are rotten?
Tell me, what's the point in seeing tragedy in your soul
When my heart has, not even at the beginning, been whole?
Tell me, what's the point in you making up your mind
When I continue to know that you will leave me behind?
Tell me, what's the point in waiting hopelessly for your return
When killing is the only thing you think of and observe?
Tell me, what's the point in running away from your past
When my touch and my voice was all you'd experienced last?
Tell me, did you honestly remember me?
When you walked right past me, as if you were free?