Nostalgia is creeping in Hoping that tomorrow will last Moment by moment, soaking it in Reeling in the line Holding on to people leaving fast Telling myself I'll be fine Missing memories of friends Leaving in due time—grasping at vines Held by what I'll leave behind Future is knocking on my door Telling me what to do Forcing me into this land of the poor Gone to gather my tears Ask my father what happens next? And he tells me a decision dawns—one I fear