Woorden: Mourning September. Running.

You always smile
But there?s a frown inside
Travel a mile
To capture a crown only to hide
What are you running, running from?
What is it you escape?
What are you running, running from?
You could be so great.
Running again must feel like sin
For the wear on your soul has taken a toll
I can see, your eyes deceive what you think you know to believe