What happens to the outcasts when we grow old?
What happens to the artists when their work gets sold?
What happens to the kind ones when their hearts turn cold?
What happens to us when we leave school?
When we leave the very people who found us cool?
When we hurt for the first time and cry quietly
The pain inside of us makes us want to scream
Where do we turn to when we fall into the dark?
How do we know that we left a mark?
That we can finally rest because we've fufilled our lives
And we can now actually close our eyes
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