| He returns to the same place
|
| Everyday after school
|
| To let his thoughts invade him
|
| He let’s his thoughts invade him
|
| He returns to the same place
|
| To think about it all
|
| Dark blanket pulled over his eyes
|
| Waiting for it to turn white
|
| He’s always in this same place
|
| Firsts clenched around the bars
|
| Arms stretched and body held high
|
| Above the thousand cars
|
| He feels a hand on his back
|
| That pushes him away
|
| Into the emptiness
|
| Into the nothingness
|
| He feels a second hand
|
| That grabs onto his arm
|
| Pulls him back of the edge
|
| The blanket rises from his face
|
| I can’t help but wander
|
| What would have happened
|
| If we didn’t turn up that evening?
|
| He had been returning to that same spot
|
| At that same time for so many years now
|
| We all knew his intentions
|
| He was finally ready to let himself go
|
| I mean I saw it with my own eyes
|
| I saw the earth begin to crumble beneath his shoes
|
| And how blind he was
|
| And how this meant nothing to him
|
| He was empty
|
| He had been squeezed and drained of his ghost
|
| That just hovered over his head like a thick dark cloud
|
| I pulled him back of the edge
|
| I took him aside
|
| And I said
|
| Get a hold of yourself, what do you think you’re doing?
|
| Get a hold of yourself, did you really think this through?
|
| Get a hold of yourself, boy
|
| Get a hold of yourself
|
| But the acidity of life kept driving into his brain
|
| Rendering him careless and his days so mundane
|
| Cause we live then we die and we try to leave a trace
|
| But we’re each another soul among a damaged human race
|
| I could not have let him go, I pulled him back with all my strength
|
| I could not have let him go, I pulled him back, I pulled him back
|
| And I’m overwhelmed with guilt, I sometimes will agree
|
| But what’s more meaningful than human empathy?
|
| The boy who stood above the earth
|
| The boy |