A fading sun asks no forgiveness
For he knows the gravity of his mistakes
Yet tomorrow he will make the same

And nothing could be farther from the truth
Of course he knows the difference
But his indifference carries all the weight,

and this begs to ask only simple questions

Can a mistake really be made?
Is it his choice that makes it what it is?
Or do you decide when someone else is wrong?

That puts it into perspective
At least in terms I hope you understand
And if I just assumed and you do not,

then I have made a grave mistake.