Hear a thousand pops in your ears, and wait for the words to come in.
  You’ve lived your life, seeking joy in others eyes.
  You’ve given your soul, and let your blood drip.
  Written meaningless words, true half the time.
  Waited for a grand decree to drop from the sky.
  Written on thousands of pieces of paper.
  Now in the time you’ve lived, it is nothing.
  Your worth shown only after your days are run.
  Looking into the grave, a mirror in the ground.
  You’ve sought light engraved in the life of others.
  Interpretations purely in the eye of beholders.
  The death of your artist, the death of your friend.
  The lost way of life, come round again.
  Every evening spent babbling at the sky.
  Madness creeps into your soul, and hollows it as it finds a home.
  No more answers given.