I don't know what kind of person I am, maybe I'm pretending,
Can I regard your use as love and turn a blind eye to your deception? Maybe I'm used to fooling myself?
When I look at you, you just pass me by as a stranger. Am I wrong?
Can I keep looking forward, even if my heart breaks? When you want to hold my hand, I don't know if I still have the courage to accept that hypocritical so-called love thing again... My heart has long been incomplete.