Its funny

Its funny how important,

How meaningful,

How sometimes sweet memories,

let themselves be forgotten,

Not by the grace of time,

But by the hands of men,

Where once there was a whole,

followed by an empty chasm,

That train we all took hand in theirs,

Slowly our grip was lost,

Slipping and sinking,

Into a space alone and distant,

We were there for your troubles.

We were there for your tears.

We were there for your voices.

We were there for you.

Where was the man,

Hero was it his name?

Well let your hero come,

and you'll see all the lies he's done.