""Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches turn green again and blossom, but we hope it; we know it." -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe"
But I'm not home
I'm not lost
Still holding on to what I got
Ain't much left
No there's so much that's been stolen
Guess I've lost everything I've had
But I'm not dead, at least not yet
Still alone, still alive
Still unbroken
I'm still alone, still
