To everyone who has spurn,
to every hater who has made me learn,
to every despot who in hell will burn,
thank you.

To my desires, which I yearn,
to the men and women who barely earn,
to everyone whose lives have taken a downturn,
thank you.

For persisting in night and day,
for keeping this land free, I have to say,
that life isn't fair, you will sometimes go astray,
but the best thing to do is to work and stay.

Eggs on bread, eggs on rye.
Eggs in the sky, by and by.
My love for eggs will never die
since eggs will never tell a lie.

Eggs on toast, on a roast.
Eggs are always valued the most.
My love for eggs is something I'll boast,
from east to west, and coast to coast.

Eggs are hard, they never crack.
Unless hit with the force of a resounding smack.
I will be there to protect, and to hold back.
And for the egg's safety I will attack.

Eggs with butter, eggs with beans.
What do you think this all means?
You are an egg; a fine cuisine.
And my love for you will forever be serene.

I always have these fantasies,
where I am with my crush.
We're both lying on the bed,
and cuddling.
Hugging and calming eachother.
I think it's lovely.
Do they think the same?

Can we all just
be happy
and not depressed
forever?
It's
    really
        not
            that
                hard.
Or so I think.

Why do people get sad?
Why do people feel mad?
Why do people become glad?
Why do people turn bad?

Questions in life, unanswered to the wind
which comes over me and wraps around my skin.

Wake wake wake wake wake
confront confront confront confront
talk talk talk
ask ask
ponder

Wake wake wake wake wake
beg beg beg beg
think think think
contemplate contemplate
act

Wake wake wake wake wake
decide decide decide decide
tie tie tie
write write
regret

Write on, you fine being.
Write on apart from me.
Write on from the east or west,
across a new sea.
Write on, my beloved.
Until the skies turn gray.
Write on, you fine being.
Write on far away.

Away you'll go;
far away to where nobody knows.
I'll stay here and go on so.
Without you.

When you were by my side,
a million worries died.
But all that is left is a whimper,
without you.

When we all began to cry,
when we touched the sky.
Where will our memories lie?
Without you.

Write on, you fine being.
Write on apart from me.
Write on from the east or west,
across a new sea.
Write on, my beloved.
Until the skies turn gray.
Write on, you fine being.
Write on far away.

Is it normal to talk to yourself?
Am I going mad?
Is it wrong to do such a thing?
Can I be called bad?

Depression has become a trend,
having it is part of a fad.
I don't follow short-lived crazes,
but I do feel kind of sad.

I'm only kidding, you know
when I say my life is rad.
Problems are common in life
And I'll never forget what I had.

Sadness, anger, lack of trust.
Depression, suicide, insanity's thrusts.
Topics of the past written down,
topics of the future only to be found.

For the outlandish person, let it be
that hope envelops them back into society.
That they find joy once more;
and they can appreciate life to it's core.