A paper bag blows in the wind

Never happy.  Won't be again.

Just a piece of worthless detriment

A useless piece of useless judgement.

 

Bullet to the back of the head

It will put this truth to rest

Only too late when the question's dead

When the hero dies on his personal quest.

 

Betrayal, lust, and sinful things

Helped climb the peak but it was too soon

When he jumped he had his wings

Thought he could reach the far off moon

 

But in a spiral, a downward fall

Dommed by the lies of his whole life

Accelerated until the most hurtful stall

In those wings he stuck his own knife

 

And in those last moments

He learned his greatest lesson:

Live for yourself, dig your own grave

One that you will forever rest in.