All hope is lost,
nowhere to be found.
I don't think hope
has ever been around.

Always dreading the next doctor visit,
always dreading the words I know so well.
Always dreading the simple words
that make me silently tell the doctors to go to hell.

Hope has left not only me,
but the doctors, too.
They always tell me
that there's nothing they can do.

They're not trying hard enough,
they don't even try.
All they do is look at me with pity
as I scream and start to cry.

Counting down the months,
counting down the days.
Getting closer and closer
to deaths killing rays.

Doctor after doctor,
telling me there's no hope.
In four months I'll be dead.
I need to find some way to cope.

Nothing can prepare me for this,
not even if I had a year.
But there's no hope for me,
they've made that very clear.

Where is the hope
I had as a child?
The hope that believed
as my imagination ran wild?

Where is the little girl
who had her whole life ahead of her?
That little girl left
when she found out there was no cure.

There's no medication strong enough
to soften the blow of dying.
Nothing helps this...
not even crying.

All hope is lost,
nowhere to be found.
I don't think hope
has ever been around.