The wind blows gently at my feet.
The soft smell of decaying leafs smells sweet.
I've been here a while, for ages it seems.
I can't leave if I tried, so much like a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream, a dream.
Oh, why can't it be a dream?
It would be simpler, but life is never what it seems.
The daily trudge of life.
Everyday we survive.
But for what reason?
the terrible choices.
I had no desire
to continue through this mire,
so I chose the easy way out.
So now here I am, my dear friend.
I have met my end.
I thought death would be sweet
like the decaying leafs,
while the wind blows gently at my feet,
as I hang from this tree.
But I'm so lonely.
Won't you join me?