End Of Days

You have to do these things for yourself

I'm bound by stranger feelings

If voices tell me to act it out

I just won't bother listening

You have to do these things for yourself

I can't help much past raising

Your booster seat on the pyre while you heave through

Your flute for me

You have to do these things for yourself

My mind is odd and fevered

If voices tell me to act it out

The question's "How or never?"

You have to do these things for yourself

The animals are watching

I feel the wind that comes

when you say it's the end of days