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Mitchell Thompson's blog

 

Fading Echo

The world is a factory, full of machines,
Each replaced by a newer generation.
I’m a robot, metal shell full of clockwork,
But really I’m a man, dying inside.

And as the gears continue to turn onward,
An intricate jigsaw of moving parts,
The clockwork ticks and time fades away,
And I’m nothing more then a fading echo.

Smoke floats high from the tall chimneys,
It captures my imagination, a dreamer myself.
One man's trash, another mans treasure,
All I have are these dreams, these dying hopes.

I’m nothing more then a fading echo, weak.
When I’m gone I’ll be replaced by a new model.
I won’t be remembered in this cold world,
A memory forgot, lost to the sands of time.
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