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The End of the World - text

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It's the end of the world in the face of friend with his head in his hands,
The sun hid below the horizon.
I watch as he weeps, screaming hate into me like the truth that it has come to be.
You emulate the pattern, giving the stitch some consistency.
It's hard to believe this is what you wanted.
At the bottom nothing matters, not the tool that you use to escape,
Just the scapegoat to place all the blame.
At the end of it all we cannot make you stop all the things that you are doing to yourself.
You cry, you cry out, you cry out for help, but what you do with it is not worth the while.
It's the end of the world in the face of two friends with their heads in their hands,
The sun hasn't shown since the falling.
Out with the old and now in with the new found void, lower now than ever before.
You emulate the pattern, giving stitch some consistency.
It's hard to believe this is what you wanted.
At the bottom nothing matters, not the ones you choose to betray,
Just the scapegoat to place all the blame.
At the end of it all we cannot make you stop all the things that you are doing to yourself.
You cry, you cry out, you cry out for help, but what you do with it is not worth the while.
Alone in your tomb, a drink for every sad song I've shown you.
So what did I do? Best intentions only to contribute.
I won't disappear, but you'll be closer with the photos on your mirror.
It's my last attempt left.
Just have some faith when I tell you it's all for the best.
At the end of it all we cannot make you stop all the things that you are doing to yourself.
You cry, you cry out, you cry out for help, but what you do with it is not worth the while.

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