And when I die what will be left

This worries me

What will I be

what will be remembered of me


And who decides what I was?

What impression do I leave behind?

The change I did? or only what people know...

they will know a mask not me



To himself a man is a legend

To himself a man is a disease

To society a man is an impression

So what is a man in his death



Is this who I am? some eulogy?

A blind speech given by a stranger

Someone that didn’t spend one minute in my head

This is the pill that keeps me up a night



Don’t complain and don’t cry

Don’t ask and don’t be stupid

Don’t write and no one will know



And who gives a song his meaning?

Is it the writer or those who read it

Its nothing then, or is it everything



I Don’t want people who aren’t me to decide who I am

I crumble to the thought that only I will who I am