Where Lost Souls Go

Every day, the alarm missed. Chances missed. Hours fly by. Hours fly by.

Sunlight creeping through the blinds. Making me wanting to hide with mornings. Blend into each

other. While others are running thin. Trying to reach the sky.

Whilst already being measured up for the six feet of underground. Laying down.

Faces passing me like ghosts. Where do the lost souls go? The silence is louder

than their voices. Every frown doesn't have to go down. Sometimes I feel like I'm watching

my own life from the outside. What if this is all I ever am? Oh,

oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,