The charred remnants of remaining leftovers

What shall come to pass shall come to be
A white seagul, a shining star lost at sea
Some say the youth never knows it's full potential
For me the difference is, so I guess, quite fundamental
Some say love comes to those who believe
But these are the same people that deceive
They gag and blind the spark that lives in some of us
Yet, they are right, a spark is not a big plus
With a spark, I drew a red, round crayon sign
It became a heart on a piece of paper for the love of mine
But no matter how I try, I can't remember who she was?
Who was she, this love that at the time none could surpass?
One of the faces, lined in a row of my past
Blown away, the fantasies that were not meant to last
To truly love is to be totally and truly alive
So I guess I've truly lived for two weeks, ah jive
Throughout the days I've lost myself, the inner bliss
Fortunately, that is not so bad if you have little to begin with.



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