A half-formed smile
On jaded lips
Deep black eyes
That gaze past tomorrow
And yet so tired,
So weary with it all
How can she reach out
For a future that doesn't exist?
If only the world would stop dying.
The past is coloured with red blood
"How nice," she thinks,
"That I am not of it."
But sorrow creeps back
"How sad," she sighs,
"That I can not stop it."
But tomorrows have yet to come
And the world has yet to turn
Come back, full circle,
Tomorrow is past.
We of the future stand
In a past that has no morrow.
Will she ever laugh?
Will she ever love us?
She, who sees so far.
Tomorrow will bring the answer
Tomorrow
Tomorrow