Well I hate to say it but I like it,
Just a whisp of wind through the bushes,
It comes and goes,
But one thing stays the same,
In my quiet ****** world,

I'd hate to be famous and stand out,
It means I was the loudest,
I'd rather live without attention,
Not in shadow but at my own volume,

See why O why would I want to peek out,
In the lowest point?
The generation that sees the End of Days,
Would they be by any definition,
Masters of their own destinos?

You can't breathe in this hollow tomb,
The town you live in is getting to you,
Then in a fire's ignite,
You can speak again.