Nightmares arose from our innocent dreams,
From childish wishes on shimmering stars,
Once-cheerful faces disfigured with scars,
Our laughter transformed into ghastly screams,
Tricked by mirages which won't quench our thirst,
Our seeds get planted but fail to take root,
Our hungers fed by hollow, rotten fruit--
We're destined to want, and thereby we're cursed.
Five more outs. Just five is all we needed.
We hoped. We prayed. We begged and we pleaded.
They never came, and now we're left haunted
By ghosts who curse us for what we wanted.
Our curse is not to fail, it's not to cry,
Our curse is just an echo: Why? Why? Why?