my ink

I've got a feeling that Goes above me and around all of that It's written in the most beautiful ink From what I draw the most beautiful link How could I say goodbye in the day? How could I let it pass me in sleep? Though I know, it's written in my ink Why do we make a friend? Holding glasses high instead of a hand Getting bitten is the nicest of ends So that I lead myself while making new plans And how could I say goodbye in the day? How could I let it pass me in sleep? Though I know, it's written in my ink Why do we make, why do we make a friend?