The living are restless Who needs the dead Roaming around Thoughts in their heads Expelled by the people Societies click Their guilt and their shame They can not rid They’re no longer living Just taking up space No hope or desire To join in the race So what of the living The chosen few Noses in the air They quickly accuse They take away The dreams and faith Good people die Every single day Without a cause No battle no war They keep their silence They’ve locked that door Of who they were And who they could never be Locked inside And they’ve hidden the key They go on existing Without meaning no life There hearts go on beating Their past is their plight No search for an answer The question is clear Why all the madness Why am I here.
