• We ponder our own creation
    We question what we call reality
    Where could this all have come from?
    No proof left behind we can physically see

    Why would we live on
    If decomposing beneath the ground
    Is all that we're here for?
    Why would we still breathe
    And count the days until the end
    If nothing greater was in store?
    Why would we live
    If there was nothing to live for?

    Is there a life after death takes it's toll?
    Will anyone mourn at my funeral?
    Will I watch as my body is covered from sight?
    Will they know if I made it out alive?

    Is life just a detailed illusion?
    What then do we make of what our eyes see?
    Can it be determined by memory
    Will we even remember this vivid dream?

    Why would we live on
    If decomposing beneath the ground
    Is all that we're here for?
    Why would we still breathe
    And count the days until the end
    If nothing greater was in store?
    Why would we live
    If there was nothing to live for?

    Are we in our own imagination?
    Is our life just a subconscious thought?
    Living and breathing is all we know
    But it's so hard to tell if it's real or not