Touch my hand,
it's not as fragile as it seems.
I'm not another skinny beauty,
but then again I never tried to be mainstream.
Hold onto my hand,
we'll race through the fire.
I can't promise we'll make it there scar-free,
but at least we'll be there together.
Reach your hand to mine,
it's hard to find me through all the fog.
But maybe the sun will come out,
and everything will be alright after all.
a/n: And then we'll finally be free.