The charred remnants of remaining leftovers

What shall come to pass shall come to be

A white seagull, a shining star lost at sea

Some say the youth never knows its full potential

For me the difference is, so I guess, quite fundamental

Some say love comes to those who believe

But these are the same people that deceive

They gag and blind the spark that lives in some of us

Yet, they are right, a spark is not a big plus

With a spark, I drew a red, round crayon sign

It became a heart on a piece of paper for the love of mine

But no matter how I try, I can't remember who she was?

Who was she, this love that at the time none could surpass?

One of the faces, lined in a row of my past

Blown away, the fantasies that were not meant to last

To truly love is to be totally and truly alive

So I guess I've truly lived for two weeks, ah jive

Throughout the days I've lost myself, the inner bliss

Fortunately, that is not so bad if you have little to begin with