Second Hand Syndrome

A blank share says it all never mind my unsteady hand

Are we really nothing more than the walking decay?

Do we have to live this way?

Time's knife pressed against our veins

There's no turning away, the fragility of humanity

Never could quite understand

The importance of pretty things it's killing me

Unavoidable tragedy finally it's here and now we remember only good times

Everything I am has come from sound

Please memory don't fail me

Last day of the rest of our lives

Last chance to make things right

And now I know

Our eyes aren't all that see

Each day that we wake up

We struggle to feel alive

Living under the knife

I hold close those dear to me