It’s all over, Grover. 

What’cha mean? What’cha mean?

There’s nothing left to be heard or seen, 

Just a hole in the ground to bury the scream. 

What’cha mean? What’cha, mean?

Illusions are all there are, Char. 

Nothing’s real, not close, not far … 

No dream, only a watering hole for the rank and obscene.

Did it die? Did it die? 

Perished like a flame in a flood, 

Born still. Born a dud. 

But why? But why?

A smile is not always what it claims, Dane.

There’s no life in a lie, 

Don’t look back or wonder why. 

All that lives is doomed to die.