What I am.

My death would change nothing,
Be forgotten, I'd be rotting.
Unimportant are my ambitions.
I'm so sorry, I should have listened.
If you're right and I am wrong,
My heart would sing a mournful song.
My hopes and dreams be crushed to dust,
and to be thrown, and to be thrust.
I'd be dead, without a doubt,
My hopes and dreams, my soul without.

Would you be at my funeral?
Would you remember me?
Would you remember me?
The one who failed.
Would you be at my funeral?
Would you just come and see?
Would you ever care to weep?
For the one who failed.

So far I've done nothing, but complained and destructing.
My heart has good motives, but my will is demoted.
My mind is controlled by the freezing of loneliness.
Of boredom and idleness, of virtues and lies.
My character shines, though transparent you're blind.
My mind may seem dull, and imperfected grime.
A rage that you fuel, through the thoughts you expel.
Your skeptical feelings, the lies that I seal.
My hopes and ambitions, dillute what I'm missing,
but I'm empty without all the criticism.

Would you be at my funeral?
Would you remember me?
Would you remember me?
The one who failed.
Would you be at my funeral?
Would you just come and see?
Would you ever care to weep?
For the one who failed.

Now I'm gone, now I'm dead.
No more thought in my head.
The potential I had, before death.
I regret, I regret.
But I yet see to bet.
What the future pretends.
For I yet get to see who will be at my funeral.