That's how it goes...

All shall fade away, every bit of it

Like whispers in the wind

Smoke from the cigarettes

Swirling away to nothingness.

In your darkest of the nights

Coldest of the hours

And then all that you'll find

Would be ashes of what remains-

Bits and pieces of what got broken

Wishes and dreams and the glitters.

And you.

Tired, insane, broken- but you'll be.

Right there in the cold.

And I shall laugh at you

And your broken precious goal

When all that once shone will get dull

I'll take away your soul

And paint black all over it.

So feed, feed your head when you can

Give it strength to survive

For I shall break you all

I am dear little life.