I don’t pay attention to the world ending.
The world has already ended for me.
Many times, I wake up pretending,
To be that tough guy everyone sees.
Every morning and night,
It’s the same old story.
That life isn’t going so bright.
The story of my life already written for me.
Loser and loner that’s covered in scars,
The color of the heart, all black.
Dirty trash falling like dead stars.
A sweet taste of death that whispered back.
The tears of a clown, sadder than sad.
I miss the younger days that I’ve had.