Time goes on, waist-full
People are rich and hateful.
Open your eyes, father
Finally cry and gather.
Gather misery and disrespect
We both know that nothing's perfect.
I am a pen and I write
Voicing my freedom and my fight.
My fight will never end the way it should
Because we're all careless and misunderstood.
My bones are yellow but they're strong
You left us young and that was wrong.
The time went by, it wasn't waist-full
I look around and feel so tasteful.
From the bottom of my heart, you died
Although it still hurts, I lied.
You were the closest I have had
And now I stair at my mother, mad.
My ink begins to run out
And my head fills up with doubt.
All I can do is think and think
While other life fills up with pink.
