Will history forgive me?
Or will it leave me with nothing to spare?
The medium turns pale and sore,
Dying off in the dreams of being mediocre,
Where's the medley of songs we spoke?
Did it ever exist? Or amidst the by lanes of the city?
The certainty's uncertain adventure
That never scared me like the future,
The dialects theatre or the hunger of higher tier
My whimsical mind spoke to the thousands.
Seeing death at its proximity
I saw the feets which I've never seen
I felt the dirt which was never felt.
The facts dying on my health
"I don't want you close enough"
That's the cry!
I don't know if you are making me sleep,
Or bringing back those laughs,
I can't love you with all I have.