These eyes of mine are heavy weighted and don't want to open.
Unconsicously, things are far from perfect.
Unconsciously, things are even farther.
We all know that we are constantly chased by our unforgiving past.
Well, it'll never get me alive.
Oh dear, I think I've already lost, I'm sorry but I've given up.
A crooked smile and a wry glance is all I have to offer.
My most sincere regrets are quite non-existant.
Hope is happily lost.