Why is it one hides
Why is it one hides what they're feeling inside?
Wether it be a chuckle,
Or a cry?
Why does the road called time go and go?
So if you don't say it,
They'll never know?
Why do we wait?
Holding it all inside.
The anguish grows great.
And to ourselves we have lied.
Now for the past week,
I've found these words true.
Chatham, I love you.
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