Of an end never written I say;
My life will be worth reading.
And the philosophy
you'll think drove me mad
was in fact the truth your eyes were voluntarily closed to.
I would've loved to share my taste of grandeur
but my limbs have become numb
from my mind's worries.
I've lost interest in what you think is life.
What you think is worth living for
has become just another occurrence to me.
So if I were to write this end
bearing in mind my load of tragedy,
knowing my achievements mean nothing,
It will only turn you off.
And the heroic pictures you've taken of me with your ever lovely eyes,
Will only weigh you down.
