Marty Willson - Questions Without Answers

Is it true
I can't believe this hatred
What do you do
The world is so ill fated
But when you're sitting
On a quiet afternoon
With the sunlight
Pouring like gold into your room
You can't believe that the world will end soon
The world will end soon


You sometimes feel
You're not doing enough
But what is real
You never know who to trust
It seems that people
Sit in jail without a crime