Gatsby's American Dream - Speaker For The Dead

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Beaches make the sand white

Make the sand all romantic and shit

Palm trees, branches, imagine them

Green, naive and shining with pride

Oh, arrogant island being buried in humility

Like the beaches were buried in ash



Who will remember you now?

Billows and billows see the smoke rise

Smoke stack for every sin but did they believe that

At the center of the island was a volcano, oh no

Oh no, who will remember you now? You're dead and gone



We came here on a plane

Just a couple of scientists

Among the ruins and remains

This island could have been saved



But some people just choose death

And can't see a way out

Till their bones are all that's left

Their chests were hollowed out



But some people never know

Too caught up in the beautiful

But their heart's a volcano

© GATSBY'S AMERICAN PUBLISHING;




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