Listlesz

If we could sit in the sky and pretend not to cry evermore questioning why everyone is born to die and it starts the very second that we're born/well if that were the case then we all still would race to erase the very face that gave us grace never quickened by haste to spawn our first taste of this world's great waste/we're hanging on to a fist-full of threads as we try to break bread albeit with shoulders under teary-eyed heads and a cart-full of hearts that(although youthful in life)now belong to the dead.