The End

I've left some dead people on the way
I've left myself dead too, somehow
Along the roads I've been tripping on
Along the lives I've tripped on

I should feel bad, I know
I should try to fix my wrongs
But what kind of dead would I be?
If I've been looking for brains
Then brains I'll eat

Some people have left their mark
On memories, on hearts
On skins...
I leave my mark in the air
So the wind can blow and I'm gone
'Cause no good could come from me
But no evil either
What kind of dead would I be
Leaving pieces all over the place?

No notes, my dear
Nothing to blame on
No suffering, no
No bad people, no
No bad life,
Nothing's missing
Nothing but my soul

So the wind blows...