We are a dying breed
The ones who remain loyal
The ones who people seem to need
We are the few who don't judge
Only accept, don't even hold a grudge
The ones who cry alone in the dark
Who don't let the tears leave a mark
Without a shoulder to cry on
Without someone to listen to them
We are the ones people cry on
Who listen when something's wrong
Nobody looks at us completely
When we stand and listen intently
We are the loyal ones, a dying race
The ones who pay attention to other's face
The way they frown and how they smile
We can see it from a mile
We are the ones who make sure others are okay
Even if we already asked them that day
Now left are just us few
So when we are gone what will others do?