After the End
Will I go unnoticed at the last goodbye?
When the rivers have run their course,
when the sun burns out the sky.
What will I have done when the mountains begin to fall?
When the rain clouds cry themselves out,
when the storm shouts out a final call.
Who will I have loved when the ground starts to crack?
When the grass tears at its roots,
when there is no turning back.
To whom will I have counted when I'm still beneath the ground?
When the cold clay swallows me whole,
when I have made my ending sound.
But why will it have mattered when I'm no longer here?
When my thoughts are no longer present,
when silence is drawing near.
Will I care when I feel it coming, will I even have a heart?
Why would I want to stay amidst the ruins?
So, when do I depart?