It's a strange reget I fear,
that I might look back on my years,
and regret that I'd been kind,
when finally comes my time.

That I might look back and revere
the times when I was selfish.
And well, this was never meant to be
a contest of who was kindest,
I think in my absense of mind just
pottering around,
avoiding the risk of being
a bad memory from another human being,
but in this incessant kindness,
I worry that I'm seeing
an increasing list of costs
and a shrinking window of feelings
and asking in a voice
quiet enough to never be heard,
I ask the world, "have I been heard?"

I am no ******* of gilded sentiments.
Purchasing my fortune in currencies of kind words.
Settling my debts to the harbinger and the reaper
by my endeavor to never been seen alike them.
I seek the gentle will of the world we built
by calling blindly for salvation
within a nation of those who cannot see
and hoping that they'll somehow see me,
If I devote my life
to being something someone else should have been.

will you still love me
if I don't smile today?
if my tears fall like raindrops
and my world tears at the seams?
if my voice breaks when I talk
and I seek the comfort of dreams?

will you still love me
if I don't cheer up today?
if I sit rigid in silence
and spend the whole day in bed?
if I find solace in cigarettes
and don't keep myself fed?

will you still love me
if I don't laugh today?
if I keep my thoughts hidden
and don't say what I mean?
if I curl up in darkness
and stare at a screen?

will you still love me
if I don't calm down today?
if my patience wears thin
and snaps like a thread?
if my eyes no longer sparkle
and are absent instead?

will you still love me
if I don't smile today?

You'll love me as long as I say
the things you want me to say.
And if I don't tell you you're lovely,
your love seems to fade away.

But you'll love me if I know the way,
the way that I've learnt to convey,
to speak in the way that you taught me,
so your love isn't taken away.

And it's making me feel quite lonely,
all these words that you're making me say.
I don't even think that you'd know me,
if we spoke when you couldn't see my face.

The news is a c#%&
That son of a b@#$!
They don't give a f$%!
about talking s&#@
That girl is a s!@$
and that dude's a d!@&
But I blame this boll@&$s
On tabloid pr!@&s

We are children of stars, all of us each,
if you look way back far beyond memory's reach.
Past fire and lightning, spirit and beast,
our atoms return, and stars we complete.