Watching the clouds float across the sky. But I know a hidden sun’s still there watching. The sweet scent of the morning air in the midst of this dreary gloom, Someday I’ll meet my fate up there, up there among those feathery clouds. And though I’d get rained on sometimes, there was never any storm I couldn’t handle.
we are the true cursed generation worrying incomers for worried nations we see the world in its darkest colours so very different from our fathers and mothers unfitting cogs into a broken machine grown to hate world that so far has been our planet's on fire from sins of your past we know we are lost, world's not gonna last poisonous air is choking our lungs avoiding conflict and holding our tongues to yank the torch out from your withering hands to purify humanity that begs to be cleansed voice of reason in a cacophony of lies slowly reclaiming the sky full of pies
though our wind no longer swayed in the same direction though our sun doesn't rise at the same time and though our ocean doesn't bear the same wave my dear, I've always prayed from the inmost part of my soul that your path will always be filled with joy and happiness and that everything around you will also eradiate warmth so that the dark lacuna and the brisk part of this world won't make you feel left alone
so that neither solitude nor my absenteeism will cast you away to the brink of inconsistency and self-loathing