Is it just a mask you cling to?
Or is it just you that we all look to.
A ghost of past, present, and future.
It's hard enough to put out a flame that doesn't burn,
so what is it you cling to?
Your hope,
scholar,
the one you call daughter?
Or the one you wish you could see when you look in the mirror?
I'll tell you one thing,
when the worlds going down,
while they just clown and fool around,
who are you as you sit there bleeding?
If only we were the ones that could put out the flame,
though we've tried.
Still forced to bite into that poison apple you all call fruit
Let me just say,
I wish it was the smoke we'd stop breathing so easily.
When night comes and darkness is all around,
we all light our candles as we lay down.
I wish we could believe in something more than democracy,
but that's just me,
and those broken candles that still burn just as you read.
