Life is an eternal struggle of days filled with black or white
Grey is hardly seen when the ride takes flight.

What a journey this ride is on, filled with the front seats to right or wrong,
With hecklers that are too eager to blame,
To shame without doubt, conscience and name
Faceless nomads with pointed fingers, who start the flame.

A flame, from which this journey began, extinguished with jealousy and madness
Another reason the human race to bathe in their sadness.

Life should be a flame but lived, loved and cherished
As this flame can go out at any time
Out without saying goodbye to the ones most missed

My flame is burning crazily and maybe out of control
So quickly burning and twice as bright
Live each day as it could be your last, one day, one night
As Love maybe for poets or so they say
But for now at least, I live for the day.