There’s something on the wind,

That pulls you fast away,

From things here you have grown to love,

That makes you want to stay.

With friends here you have bonded,

And formed invisible ties,

But there are questions that still haunt you,

And give no reasons why.

So let’s say its just that the time has come,

For all such things to pass,

And take comfort in the knowledge,

That enduring friendships last.

Something echoes in the back of your mind,

Like a long lost friend that you were hoping to find.

Like a faint calm whisper, carried on the wind,

And it comes to you , only to disappear once again.

It speaks to you, of loves won and those lost,

And the ones that hurt most, weren’t the ones that you thought.

And it whispers to you of both good times and bad,

Those lived as a child, that you’ve forgotten you’d had.

It’s the voice that is with you, most all of the time,

That no one else hears, from there in your mind.

It will always be with you, through all that you do,

A constant reminder, of what was once you.

Standing alone against the cold,

Wondering if the breath that I see is really mine.

Missing the warmth of the far off sun, scolding my skin,

Its setting so still, it wounds me.

For just to be alive in my own flesh and blood ,

It no longer seems to be real.

As I rage against the bitter cold,

Of this life that I feel.

The sun has turned, from gold to grey,

Utopia is burning, this cold winters day.

Our freedom lay burnt, in ash on the ground,

Dear truth and liberty, no longer profound.

Their lies and deceit, flow free through the air,

It leaves some to wonder, if anyone cares.

It seems like their watching, with around the clock crews,

At work or at play, they see all that we do.

And for this we pay taxes, less the rich, more the poor,

And they tell us our freedom, is worth fighting for.

But we toil for their money, till the end of our days,

With our blood and our sweat, all for minimum wage.

We live and die free here, at least that’s what we’re told,

And while we chase after dreams, our freedom is sold.

For utopia is burning, and there’s nothing we can do,

For we helped build this fire, and now we’re burning too.