In the depths of our uncertainties,
lay us down to rest, but we will never sleep.
For it is the souls within us
that keep us alive.
Kill us so, but softly not.
You've got to make it hurt
if you're ripping us apart.
We are the inglorious,
the indifferent,
the rustling of leaves on an autumn morning.
We shall not be revealed;
the aftermath could be unruly.
Bring us down one last time,
so we can walk
among you.