Wanting to be heard, with nothing to say
Old recitations to dialogue in a play
We speak, in echoes, like poetry, it rhymes
And the father of learning is repetition
What only concerns is the comfort in your reflection
Death is a comfort that doesn't exist
When you're dead, nothing really is
Nothing really is, and nothing will be
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 5:27 AM UTC
Wanting to be heard, with nothing to say
Old recitations to dialogue in a play
We speak, in echoes, like poetry, it rhymes
And the father of learning is repetition
What only concerns is the comfort in your reflection
Death is a comfort that doesn't exist
When you're dead, nothing really is
Nothing really is, and nothing will be