My way's the way of those,
Who have at last been finally forgotten,
Who'd better take the pain of serving memories,
Who'd go to those sweet happy sunny days,
Than undergo the present overwhelming rainy sarcasm,
Than look for deeply hidden something,
One day impulsively called "love",
Some day so thoughtlessly let to become the "only",
Than believe,
Than suffer...
I'll be, I'll be forgotten
And I will die
For it's the proper way
For those like me to silently remind:
Unrequited love just cannot live
and dies forgotten.