Does it matter to her or him, or me.
They live in such complacency.
They can not even here the roar,
Of this lost forgotten shore.
Can they even comprehend,
That we live close to the end.
But you know, and you can see.
But even though you notice me.
I'm sorry that means that you've known strife.
Pain greater sometimes than life.
Almost no one knows without the pain.
Why we crave the dark again.
I'm so sorry that you hear the roar.
Of this lost forgotten shore.
The most beautiful people, have the darkest pasts.
They've felt the pain that's going to last.
So why can't they let us be?
Why can't we live in harmony?
Or maybe if they were able to see,
Just what us broken can be.
A few can, but most cannot.
It's like us feeling a happy thought.
