The ghosts of failure have always called to me
but only recently have i started answering...

I know you think you've found your path
but it's just a result of the aftermath...

You slid beneath your ruined day
pulled out your pride and went on your way...

You say that you don't care
that the world is made of nothing...

You say we're the same age
we're walking along the same page...

I know nothing ever lasts,
it ends just as it begins...

I don't think i can make a difference,
that it's too late for change...

To wait until every cold second ticks away
and to still be looking at you...

The central artery tunnel leads to his only way...
he clutches his carry on and plain blue sweats...

I bait you just to see if you'll say something
ask a question...

In the upper corner of the attic i live in
among countless loads of ideas and opinions...

After months of empty noise
i hear the answers carried on the wind...