At the end of days, at the end of time.
When the Sun burns out will any of this matter.
Who will be there to remember who we were?
Who will be there to know that any of this had meaning for us?
And in retrospect I'll say we've done no wrong.
Who are we to judge what is right and what has purpose for us?
With designs upon ourselves to do no [bad word] wild unaware of what [bad word] of us.
The Sun was born, so it shall die, so only [bad word] me.
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me.
Each day shall end as it begins and though you're far away from me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me
Without a thought I will see everything eternal,
forget that once we were just dust from heavens fire.
As we were forged we shall return, perhaps some day.
I will remember you and wonder who we were.