The glory at the moment,
drowned me with a movement.
Pride, they call it.
Ego, they call it.
I wouldn't know before they took it.
The mouse stole my *******,
I don't know that I am a slacker,
I didn't know that I am a slacker.
The forest fire burnt,
destroying what's created, destroying what took time,
maybe I'm just meant to cry.
Suddenly, everything is cold,
with every warm blanket sold,
I am left all alone.
I don't know that I am a slacker,
I didn't know that I am a slacker.
The fire for passion died out,
I'm simply finding a way out.
Picking up the ashes the fire left behind,
nothing is left except for a sigh.
At least the grounds, the trees are dry,
leaving me there, waiting to die.