The Most Feared Thing

When the walls come crashing, nothing stands
Time heals nothing

Redemption by seeing nothing
The most beautiful thing is not to try or care

All have become some sort of clone

For this, letting others decide, the easiest way
Bled dry
Bled dry, no substance

If I wanted to become this
I would have copied you
An elevated thought that we are somehow better
But we all fall

The minute falls and you are left to look in
His broken spirit (His broken spirit)
Until then, some day we will be ill
My heart grows weary with the path we have chosen