Too many pictures and not enough memories
It’s as if the camera lived a life not me
Too many friends wearing the faces of enemies
I’m wishing there was someone else to be
Was it my frail conscience that caused me to falter
Too much regret, I could never hide behind the screen
Was it my idols who spilled blood on their altar
As all the purest things in life died and became obscene
All of these early hour thoughts of the ending
Sometimes make it hard to appreciate that I’m alive
I can stand on the pavement above gods and monsters
At least as long as it takes the coming nothing to arrive
I can still shoot tin cans off of tree stumps
And I can still take more photos on my phone
The days that I find myself down in the dumps
I can look at my enemies and know I’m not alone
