You see, I've got the heart of a poet in this chest.
I'll be a writer til they lay me down to rest.
Don't let my words ever die.
Sing them day and night.
Let them keep teaching,
Preaching, reaching...
Crying out for love,
Crying out for life,
Fearing for loss of life,
Because of awareness of mortality.
Inspiration for the hopeless
Gives a sense of immortality.
Nobody really ever wants to face the truth.
The truth is hard to face and if you say it,
You will be chased away because it causes too much pain.
Nobody has really ever said it.
We could all save a lot of trouble; Forego the heartache if we would.
It's not loneliness we dread.
It's the thought of being dead.
Is there enough food for me?
Is there shelter from the elements?
Is there health when I am ill?
Is there warmth in wintry chill?
Is there drink when I am dry?
Would it be aweful if we stopped creating life?
What will it matter when the last heart has beaten for the last time?
Have you never asked these questions in the dark?
Is a life from which you are isolated
In some desolate location
A blessing to your life
Or a mere aberration
Really matter much
When you see it on your screen?
Will you see it in your dreams?
Will you let them fade away,
As we all fade away,
As I will fade away,
As you fade away?