The waves, they crash against the shore, if we came close we would be drowned.
Would there be a sound without the sand?

The brook so clear, it burbles, gurgles, rushes through the ground.
I wonder how it feels, so free, so in command.

The wind, so softly speaking so that it cannot be bound.
Does it breathe its breeze throughout the land?

And we, we ****, destroy and burn and expect to be crowned.
We couldn't do it better if we planned.

One day, the earth will be dead, and dry, with nothing to be found.
I hope that day that we will understand.

Just because I've lied doesn't mean I'm a liar.



Just because I'm wrong doesn't make you any righter.



Scars don't make me ugly, they prove I'm a fighter.



Don't try and put me down, I'll always rise higher.

Would there be enough time?
The girl was running from it.
She knew she only had little left.
Not enough time.
Enough to tell the story that haunted her every night?
Every day?
She needed writing.
Let it out.
Then she could die.
Then it would be over.


Then it would be over.
Then she could die.
Let it out.
Writing.
She needed every day.
Enough to tell the story that haunted her every night.
Not enough time?
She knew she only had a little left.
Time: The girl was running from it.
Would there be enough?