Easy come, easy go,
So just how do we know,
Who is faulse and who is true,
How do I comprehend, is it you?

Mutter what I wish to hear,
Never meaning honestly clear,
Is it a secret your attempting to tell,
A broken memory you attempt not remember,
A frozen death apon whispers of December?

Don't just say what I desire,
Never twist the truth, or dance in fire,
Just gravly speak them to my ear,
Rather it be fortunate or horrored fear,

Please I beg of the just say it,
Before my final fuse is lit,
No secret is infinate,
Even if it by small incroment,

Just tell me, and stop lying,
I'll push forth the crying,
Or is it good and dare not truth,
Don't make me suffer in my youth,

Pity, how close once before,
Yet now I'm not even sure,
Is it the secret we now divided,
So let me feel enlighted.

Tell me.