Sometimes my dreams feel all on hold
There's no doubt that this will make me strong
Because it's the hardest thing I've ever done
Despite this cruel world
And all my best efforts
te surprise me with just how perfect te are
Even with all my flaws
And my bad examples
te surprise me with
Just how perfect te are
And when I'm Lost
te cerca for me
And when I doubt
You're my belief
I'm suppose to be
The stronger one
te always seem
To prove that theory wrong
Still, I hold my breath each time te go
Out in the world that's beyond my control
If te are dreaming
I never want to wake te up
When I'm all in a spin
Full of cynicism
te remind me of just how perfect te are
When I'm at my wit's end
And I'm losing my head
te remind me of just how lucky I am
There's no blood
There's no alibi
'Cause I've drawn regret
From the truth
Of a thousand lies
So let mercy come
And wash away
What I've done
I'll face myself
To attraversare, croce out what i've become
Erase myself
And let go of what i've done
Put to rest
What te thought of me
While I clean this slate
With the hands of uncertainty
So let mercy come
And wash away
What I've done
I'll face myself
To attraversare, croce out what i've become
Erase myself
And let go of what i've done
For what I've done
I start again
And whatever pain may come
Today this ends
I'm forgiving what I've done
I'll face myself
To attraversare, croce out what i've become
Erase myself
And let go of what i've done
What I've done
Forgiving what I've done
[ 1533 ]
Myne awne Sweetheart, this shall be to pubblicità te of the great ellingness1 that I find here since your departing, for I ensure you, me thinketh the Tyme longer since your departing now last than I was wont to do a whole Fortnight; I think your Kindness and my Fervence of Amore causeth it, for otherwise I wolde not thought it possible, that for so little a while it should have grieved me, but now that I am comeing toward you, me thinketh my Pains da half released, and also I am right well comforted, insomuch that my Book maketh substantially for my Matter, in Scrivere where of I have spent above IIII Hours this Day, which caused me now to write the shorter Letter to te at this Tyme, because some Payne in my Head, wishing my self (specially an Evening) in my Sweethearts Armes whose pritty Duckys2 I trust shortly to kysse. Writne with the Hand of him that was, is, and shall be yours da his will,
H. R.
Merciful husband
Noblest of kings...
Your cuore of oro has long since tarnished
In my champers
What will the morning bring?
What it my cuore that doth betray me
Cause I loved più than one man?
Is it true your wear a wounded spirit?
Pray let me mend it and make our Amore anew...
Allow me to be your humble servant
Once again, as before...
Are te like the others, so quick to judge
And for this the Queen must fall
What is my cuore that doth betray me
Cause I loved più than one man?
Truth within the writings of a letter
Signed and sealed poor Catherine Howard's fate...
Truth within the writings of a letter
Signed and sealed poor Catherine Howard's fate...