The blues as the day ends
and the birds fly away into the misty west,
as the trees's seize to sway
i behold a new truth in this dusk
that i will always walk alone
be trodded on like a little stone
and be left for good
not worthy of memory
not to be part of a dream, not even a little story
is this what i was meant to be
u push until you are shoving
bend me till i break
but you are still not able to see
that am real and not another fake