Some kind of friction has scarred me, but created your new style. 某种摩擦已经伤痕累累的我，但创造了新的风格。

My reasons to endure used to be based around who you were, 忍受用我的理由是基于你是谁身边，

and your brilliant passion that could blaze right in front of a perfect stranger. 和你的辉煌的激情，可以走出一条就在一个完全陌生的前面。

This is my downfall - my blemish, I've been told before. 这是我的堕落 - 我的伤疤，我已经告诉过。

Quit holding on to what she was. 退出抓着她是什么。

She doesn't recognize you or herself anymore. 她不认识你或她自己了。

She's stuck in the process of embracing what crumbles, 她停留在拥抱了崩溃的过程中，

and when it happens there will be no apologies. 并且，当它发生也不会有道歉。

She chose to collapse what held her, 她选择了崩溃什么抱着她，

and if not cautious there may never be a cradle to soften her descent, like clouds. 如果不小心有可能永远是一个从摇篮到软化她的血统，如云。

New shapes are taken, but they're not always actual, they're never tangible. 新的形状采取了，但他们并不总是实际的，他们从来没有实实在在的。

It's so brutal to see someone give it all up for nothing, 它是如此残酷地看到有人给它全部白白，

and having no power to stop them. 又没有什么权力去阻止他们。