It's a poem, not a song. I know it's kind of out of my fashion, but oh it anyway!

This may be the last we see

The snow is falling down like tears

Crystals of hope flutter in the wind

Torn to shreds by all the years

You voice is cold but warming

As if meant to soothe my soul

But as you know I'm empty

Missing conscience, never whole

When times get rough, you run away

I can never catch my breath

You're much too proud to show yourself

Is there any of you left?

The sun is peeking through the clouds

As he sits upon his perch

He judges us as would a god

We are all his church

Imagine we are all alone

A sore in the universal eye

All the vast valleys of nothing

Are mirror images of our strife

One small cry may change the world

Our turn the world away

The cries of young ones singled out

Muffled by the day

A no one is what you are

You have no choice of that

There's no avoiding fate, but fuck

Fate is fake at that

The is no such thing as normal

And there's no such thing as odd

The only things to fit the profile

Is the one that they call god

But darkness covers everything

And hatred governs love

And everything is being lost

Abandoned from above

We're left to live our lives alone

But we always can pretend

That we have love, and love has we

As we shuttle toward the end