When we're all forgotten,
and fade away,
it'll justify the apocalypse wasn't meant to heal the world this way.
But still, we wait for the blast wave to reach us.
Until then, I'll stare at something else.

So tell me,
how do you expect me to feel?
When this dies,
maybe I can find something real,
without you by my side.

This future seems so distant when the past seems so close,
and I've failed my chance to rescue myself.

Will all the answers just fall from my eyes and into my hands?
Will I choose to believe what I am seeing?
That shadows don't lie.

I'll just pass them off,
as lovesick questions that were denied with good intentions.