GoodBye

When the time comes to face the music
High up on the rooftops of our already forgotten lives
Is it curiosity that turns us to the blazing winds
That forces us to question what we have
Even that which we have lost, and all things that have yet to come.

Reap the rewards we never shall,
Of he who chooses to query the cruel fate that brings him to where he stands
Says I we should not query our ends
Endings are no different to our beginnings, inevitable.

Death brings angels.
Why are we dying to live?
If we are just living to.
Die?