Would you believe me if I told you that I was in love with you? Would you believe me if I lied and said everything was going to be okay? Would you reassure my denial and ease my restless mind? If I told you that I was going to die tonight, would you never stop loving me? It's times like these when we learn to live again, until the moment we try to start over. You see, all the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on. You lie to yourself. You try to reassure yourself, until your mind gets so restless that you know you're lying. You ask yourself should you let go or hold on. Letting go the one thing you need will take a piece of yourself away. Maybe that piece is important. Maybe it's the one that makes you who you are and if it goes away you'll loose yourself forever. But what if who you are, isn't what you're really suppose to be. Have you changed for the better or for the worse? Judgement will cloud our minds. So tell me, is it really safe to walk alone in the rain? To let the cold icy tears of lost souls wash our sins away? Is a graveyard really the safest place to be? Because everyone is dead. Maybe it's not even close, because the dead seem to know all our dark hidden secrets. Even the ones we choose to forget.