if you ever really knew the things you’ve passed by
all you’d want to do is sit down and start to cry
through all this time and effort, i cannot tell the lie
i still don’t understand it, i still look for the ‘why’
not like the things i offered are in such great supply
i was not demanding, mandating you comply
there were no strings in my hands, nothing sought to tie
still nothing called you to manage more than to once more fly
i laugh about it now, the frustration i seek to ply
with a sense of near missing; succor from melancholy sigh
if you ever really knew the things that you’ve passed by
all you’d want to do is sit down and start to cry
i may never understand the reason and the why
it is enough to know that it’s the weakest things that die
it is enough to count on it and no more need to cry
it is enough to see that all your words were naught but lie
it is enough to hear how the silence has drawn nigh
it is enough to find it real, real enough to say goodbye