Look at the torches and lighters while they wave.
Do you ever care about the darkness they'd make?
Or about the light that they take?
The shadows shake,
To hear the questions asked by romantic's prey.
No my ****** up friend,
It's another question asked due to my actions,
Because you needed help and I led you astray!
You were a victim of the knife with which I play!
Answer me a question!
Would God ask for your soul to steal?
What about your skin to peel?
And I'll keep saying,
I'm sorry I could not conclude,
Did not mean to be rude,
I was distracted by all of these terms and conditions,
All the questions they all ask of me,
And I don't deal well with authority.
Truth be told I think we're meant to ask questions,
So that we may hide in our answers!
So here is a question:
Do questions die?