This white paper blotted with ink
with every dark mistake he did,
lower her heart would sink
Now, the crumbled paper
Won’t lose it’s crease
Will it ever be, new
as it used to be?
This white paper blotted with ink
with every dark mistake he did,
lower her heart would sink
Now, the crumbled paper
Won’t lose it’s crease
Will it ever be, new
as it used to be?