The halls are empty their stories well told
I wish I was not here, so full of hate
As I near the room my body goes cold
But I must press on I'm already late
All this stress has made me feel way too old
I wish this was not the depressing fate

Our pastor's in the room discussing fate
His face revealing what he has just told
I peer past to see my brother so old
My emotions are gone swallowed by hate
But still relieved that I was not too late
I lean on the window the glass so cold

Seeing what he's gone through makes my heart cold
I often wish I had, had his fate
But I was born just a little to late
I looked up to him his story well told
He always cared for me despite my hate
I was the baby, him a year older

Toll sickness has taken makes him look old
I reach and touch his hand, it feels ice cold
He moves it away, the pity he hates
He tries not to show, but he wants my fate
His face shows the secret he's never told
He tries being strong, but knows it's too late

He grabs my hand, we know it's getting late
His age says he's young, but his health says old
If only his body did what its told
The blankets shake his body feeling cold
If only we could somehow change his fate
He hides it well, but he is full of hate

The nurse comes in with the meds that he hates
He takes the pills, but we know it's too late
His body decided his own sad fate
Rejecting treatment at a few years old
I watch as he breaths and my heart goes cold
I try and forget all that I've been told

We release the hate, and both feel too old
It's getting late and this story's well told
Both guess his fate, but hope it's not the cold