(play the fife lowly)   i just cannot stop   asking why, always why   running and running   wandering and wondering   no matter how many years fly by   screaming "who, what and when"   like some crazed eight year old   who needs to know everything    in a world so filled with nothing   running and running   towards one ounce of proof   things that will not crumble at the slightest touch   you tell me who the hell i抦 gonna trust   i can抰 stand looking at grown-ups   never mind trust them   loud and proud laughing at things that are not funny   chewing happily on what is left   of this cold, gray, flawed world   i just gotta keep right on running   away from it all   towards tears born from lesson   towards dreams instead of dollars   half my age and stupidly brave   æ…¶uz anything is better than lying in some comfortable deathbed   staring into the abyss   as afraid of living as i am of not living   though one time i awoke    and could still feel the cold steel of a sword   that had been thrust into me