Not to sound like a dreamer,
But what else is there to look forward do,
Except a bummer,
Of an existence, expecting nothing,
And getting nothing in return.
The will to fight rests on some kind of ideal,
And the strength lies in the fact you are sure,
That right is on your side, or else it's not,
And you are surely alone,
As one by one everyone learns of your fate,
As a bastard unwilling to atone.
And it's alright,
If not everyone understands,
You always have the very end to look to,
When everyone finally can.
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