If I'm going to die,
I'm entitled to say a few words.
Am I right?
I don't feel free,
I don't feel like me,
I may not be flawless,
but death is still heartless.
"What I feel is nothing,
but everything is something.
Everything, in fact, is all I can say.
No, this cannot wait one more day.
I need to say the wordless phrase,
but I don't want any pity or praise.
One word to tell you how I feel,
One word to tell you my pain is real."
Too late to speak,
I'm growing weak,
I must be dying,
my spirit's flying,
I kept stumbling over the simple words,
I whispered them now, but nobody heard.
The three little words, so simple, so true,
I had no time to say that I love you.
