To learn, we burn? Or, we learn as we burn?
Don’t know, just trying to figure out.
Sometimes all you need is words. Love in silence becomes reprimand.
With all this poison inside
It’s much to late to decide
You’ve got your mind made up
You’ve been living a lie in your white room
For all the hours that you’ve cried
There’s a year of love that they’ve denied
So you slip through the door
And fall to the floor of your black room
You’re a black room boy
But all I know is, I always will. And, my music will tell my story. Soon.