I don't know if I'm strong in body or soul.
I don't know if the pain I feel is just a grain of salt to hold.
I don't know who I am, or what I can be.
I don't know if you will hear the words that can not be let free.
I can see the pain in your eyes,
Why can't you see mine?
Is it selfish to wonder,
If happiness can really be mine?
Am I greedy, envious, and proud beyond what is seen from me?
Am I a selfish little bugger who is just a sin to see?
Should I cave my flesh and soul to the way I wish?
Can I do so without destroying my friend's bliss?
Is this a tune you've heard before?
Will you listen anymore?
How long will it be till you stop,
And no longer listen to people who have dropped?
The bodies of the dead fill the street, though their organs are still working.
We are the sloth of the world, caring not for the people in the sun light lurking.
How much is left of us and who we might be,
Is there any hope left for the people like you and me?
Sloth originally was not laziness, but simply not caring. At least, that's what I read in a philosophy book.