Should I choose to go or should I choose to stay

Was there really...

Was there not another way?

At the end of this life, of this day

Empty feelings eat a me

Consequential feelings of inadequecy 

At the end of this life, at the end of each day

What's there left to do, what's there left to say?

I'm caught up in an endless reverie

of who I am compared to who I'll someday be

and at the end of this life, at the end of this day

Was there really not another way?

What should I say I see

Who is it that I should be

At the end of this life, at the end of this day

There isn't really much left to say.