gasoline

i remember the silence after the stroke, and it sounded like the eye of a storm. so long ago we said that it would never come to this, but now this is all we are, just fragments of a story that got shattered so far beyond repair that we can't even recognize ourselves anymore. we swore, we fought, we failed, we tried. we laughed, we planted, we died, for what? now all i see is a ruined castle, burnt memories and a unknow road ahead. at least there's still fuel to go, and every day is a mile less, and your image on the mirror is getting smaller by the hour.