I was walking on a cliff,
In my hair the wind drift.
The softness of a fingertip,
Caress my tears on a whip.
In every step felt like flying,
Rather than finding myself dying.
I have chosen not to give up,
But in everytime I slipped on that clift,
I chose to rise up and countinued the trip.
My journey was a one way signal,
Either to suffer or meet your final.
Either to lose or to win,
Either a smile or a sin.
The conclusion is up to you,
The choice you made to do.
I remember it as my journey,
Never it will be my tragedy.