When we run out of tomorrows,

Will that take away the sorrows,

Or will it be another one,

When we run out of tomorrows.

When we cut the thread down,

When we cut it down short,

Will there be justice of any sort?

When we cut the thread down short.

Yes, you and me, we're the same,

We're both playing,

This sad little game,

You and me, we're the same.

But if it ends anyway,

Coming closer to the door that's gray,

Why would run to it,

And throw everything away,

When you're not supposed to pass through now,

But you surely will...someday.

A/N: Thank you for reading...