The Prast
It had to be me.
The world is not broken.
I just could not see.
My heart's all alone.
The family tree —
leaves hang by a thread.
The family tree —
it all ends with me.
It could not have been you.
All foes are just empty,
to be filled up for free
with anxiety.
The rest of your life,
you'll be searching in darkness.
The best I can be —
the world is a bad place.
My eyes, they can see
the truth that once was.
My ears, they still hear
the sound of a past life.
It never stops —
I'll never be me.
The warmth that I feel,
it's all an illusion,
a dream of a life
to keep me from dying.
A nightmare is gone,
but I am still crying.