my fingers cant type 

my pen ran out of ink

there are no more trees for paper

no more words to speak

no more music for a song

no rhythm for a hum

no lead in the penicils 

How will we carry on?

My eyes are all dry

My hopes will only shrink

there is only light from this taper

no more room for us freaks

no excuses when youre wrong

no hope to not be dumb

no creativity just stencils

How will we get along?