The pain was always there, hadn't changed, but was not worse
The joy, what little there was, only sometimes burst through
It was not noticed the times when it happened, silent, cold
I don't know why, but when tears fell, there was no release
As I lost beloved members of my circle, I felt zero, nothing
Went to the mirror, blew upon it, mist occurred I was alive
The truth, I would've been more happy if I'd been a ghost
At least it'd explain the brokenness and unspoken fear
Every day, I live my life, simply feeling pain, longing
Could 50 years of belief in an ideal, in practice of love
Somehow, not have been worth the time or effort?
No, I know it was worth it, but I was empty.
C'est la guerre, Je suis fini