Gone.

[pas_assez]

And its gone... gone... going...
Gone... everything gone... give a damn...
Gone be the birds when they don't want to sing...
Gone people... up awkward with their things... gone.

You see yourself in the mirror
And you feel safe cause it looks familiar
But you afraid to open up your soul
Cause you don't really know, don't really know
Who is, the person that's deep within
Cause you are content with just being the name brown man
And you fail to see that its trivial
Insignificant, you addicted to material
I've seen your kind before
Your the type that thinks souls is sold in a store
Packaged up with inscent sticks
With them vegetarian meals
To you that's righteous
You're fiction like books
You need to go out to life and look
Cause... what happens when they take your material
You already sold your soul and its...

gone.