Smoke plume arises
You scatter, and soon the disguise no longer covers
The lonesome lingering
It just happened that you confided in me as you faded
Behind the horizon like a setting sun
Some people say, “What’s the real reason of believing?
“Brings you so high, and when unfulfilled, leaves you bleeding.”
I wish I had answers
Had as strong of beliefs in mixed company as when I’m alone
Could keep a beat
Like the pattern of rain on the roof that beats like a drum
Of what it’s like to find love in such a cold world
Some people say, “What’s the real point in always staying?
You get so old, and by time you realize, you’ve already finished fading.”
No real answers
No real answers
No real answers exist
That I've found