Live To Die Poem by Shyanne Morreau

If we live to die, we miss out on our lives
but what good is this life, if you know its a lie
and how can i tell you that you're turning wrong
if i cant pick myself up if i dont understand the sun

If we live to die, we never learn to cry
and what good are these tears, if the end is near
and how can i tell you that you're messing up
if i cant change myself if i cant show you love

falling fast to the beat of a broken drum
falling away from the tick of the metronome
sinking slow into the heat of the setting sun
each step closer the war is over now

and if we live to die, we give up on our sight
and what good are these eyes, if you say goodbye
and how can i tell you that you need to change
if i dont know myself if i cant do the same

if we live to die, all we do is run and hide
and what good is this heart, if im torn apart
and how can i tell you to change your mind
if i cant let it out, if i bottle it inside

falling down to the beat of the broken drum
falling away from the tick of the metronome
sinking slow into the heat of the setting sun
each step closer the war is over now

beating and bleeding im seeing this bieng
he's singing his feelings and screeching these screams
he cannot be the being he wanted to be so he
beats away slowly his memory feeds
on she loved by he but she had to leave
he's feeding the blood from this black memory
he's pleased by the trees that kiss the breeze
that blows away the soft memory
but he breaths, and he bleeds trying to be
the bieng he wanted to be being free
just beating and bleeding im seeing this being
he's singin his feelings and screeching these screams

falling down from the beat of the broken drum
falling away from the tick of the metronome
sinking slow into the heat of the setting sun
each step closer its not over