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Now thDat the day haAs come G
I Bmsee myself Aas everyGone
DI am what?s Aall around Gme
No, Bmnothing it Ajust cannot Gbe
BmFeeling has Acome from the Gsun
Like Dmost everyAthing and everyGone
What seems Dlost is free Afrom the Gforce that slowly Ddestroys us
And kills Emall matter Bmoff A Em
BmWell, we don?t Emcontrol the Bmchance that Aplays Emwith us Bm
And we Emget existence Bmback to Ahurting Emothers Bm
And when we Emgo the other Bmway it?s ourAselves Emwe hurt Bm
But who Empushes on Bmthough eventuAally will Emsee
Every Amoment?s Emfirst
Every Bmmoment is first
GWhat?s gone will Dnever come AbacEmk
But it Gexists when Dyou think of AitEm
And Gwhat is anytDhing, anyAwaEmy
But a Gseries of Dthings running Emthrough your Bmbrain
GAll of the Dfucked things you AdoEm
Are the Gproduct of whats Dhappened to AyoEmu
GWhatever you Dcreate from AlovEme
Is a Ggift from the Dplace which some Emcall aBmbove
There?s Gonly the Dforces of Emhate and Bmlove
GOne breaks things Ddown and one Embuilds them Bmup.
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