When days become days
I just watch them drift by
Wondering how many days left
Until that day that I’ll die
Will I be young? Will I be old?
Will I be cowardly? Will I be bold?
Will I die in solitude, or be loved to be hold?
Why should I kill myself? A coward’s way to run.
Why should I care about feelings?
I’ve already been beaten numb
I try when I want to, a spur of the moment kind of thing
I wonder if she loved me, or if I was just a fling
I sit in class thinking of my future life
In ten months I’ll be eighteen, what will it be like?
Will she still ‘love’ me? Does she want to be a wife?
I seriously doubt it, it’ll all be alright
I’ll live life then, as I do now
Day in… day out
Then be buried in the ground