What makes you go on?

I'm walking on cold sand,

I'm flying through the burning sky,

It's too much, I just can't stand,

I comply with the sorrow, stand and sigh.

I'm tasting bitter pills,

I'm a wasting critter that kills,

What was once left of myself,

Like in the old books on my shelf.

The smoke that fills the air,

Just stand still and stare,

This feeling that I get,

This one last cigarette.

There is no puissance no more,

Polaroid-memories lay spread 'cross the floor.

They make me remember that I'm not alone,

That I am free from myself and not a drone.