The days I waste, the waste I spend, the life I spend so wastefully, maybe I’m too young to imagine anyone caring about the legacy I leave behind
The feelings that I try to chase, the moments that I try to remember
Will my grandchildren give a dime about the times I spend alone?
The life I have, the having I take to my grave
The way I talk, you’d think I’d die, always wanting something more, something that I do not have
Will my grandchildren care enough to find the times I spent alone?
2 comments:
This is good.
thank you.
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