you gotta be true to yourself.
Not blue in yourself.
Not left on the shelf.
Because there's a wealth of responsibility
in a world that's ever shrinking,
and I'm thinking:
How can I know where morals lie
in a world full of angels who stumble yet try?
In a world full of lost souls
its my goal to be brave
and be true to you.
And to care
and to worry
and to talk things through.
Cause if things kept inside
fly to the moon
its over.
We're over.
We gave up too soon.
And the reminiscing stars
would see we tried,
and the rain would fall,
the tears we cried.
The wind would blow
to symbolise sighs,
and the moon would waste away
like how we as "us" died.
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