The future is filled
with endless fire,
fueled by the greed
of people's desire.

How soon will it come?
Nobody knows.
As clowns lead the way,
fools join in rushing to pay.

The future they paint
is filled with roses.
As they pluck them out,
right under their noses.

The green will turn yellow,
the blue will turn grey,
And people like me,
have no place to stay.

The grey will turn blue,
the yellow to green,
as greedy clowns be
just a long distant dream.

Maybe I am looking for you,
maybe you are looking for me,
until we meet,
destiny is impossible to see,
do we stay as lovers,
part as friends  
or as strangers let it be.

From the present the future
seems like infinite choices.
Take me, take me,
they offer their voices.

The past is echoes
of choices not taken,
the screams of choices,
you have forsaken.

Your choices before,
might have been wrong,
ignoring the echoes
is what makes you strong.

Ignoring the echoes,
the strong rush ahead,
never stopping
until they are …