I don't sing of arms or the man
Or of humanity's existential strife
I sing of myself - a hopeless cause
A daughter, a mother, a wife
I sing of my dreams and aches and fears
I sing of my truths and lies and tears
I sing of loving my near and dears
I sing of my tiny life.

They said they didn't start the fire
That it burned ere they were born
But the one inside, it died, unstoked
Left not a trace forlorn.
Where once was light, now eternal gloom
Where once was hope, now creeping doom
Where once was a home, now an empty room
Where I crumble alone.