Now all of emotion-
seem to be off duty
Sick of onward motion;
and things not set in motion
I'm growing cold; and frozen
so void of my apparent motion
                       But stay on duty.

Put myself on promotion;
free of living in Death's duty
Putting my self will in a glove;
then going on grips in self-love
Its handwoven, and interwoven
                        Worthen of a ruby.

With abreast of pride on chest;
all of my heart has know cruelty
But I learnt how to see beauty,
and tying closely to it's devotion
                            With faith in me.



Some of which, stressful days
will move best in slow motion;
Best of times go in a moment,
so I've come to the conclusion,
                      I'm just an Ocean.

Music is like a desperate plea,
to slip back into a feeling far away.
Clawing back a forgotten dream.  
As the song fades, the memory fades.
Those Sunday morning's slip away.

Music is the only element
known to break me down,
and remind me of who I want to be.
As I sit here alone, weeping for what I cannot touch
Lost at sea, the somber serenade of time
Washes over me..

Music slips through my fingers like grains of sand,
A finite youth warm in my hands
Taken by the winds to where it needs to be.
The night in it's wisdom, lets me breathe.
A single note travels through my sleep.
The sorrow of this note unbroken, brings me peace.

"Give me the strength to live one day,
as if it summarized the entirety of my life".

Held Down In The Dirt And Sweat
From Town to Town, Knows No Regret
Dust Sways In The Wind That Silence Thread.

Angels Weep To Hear The Sound,
The End Of Times Hides Underground,
Knowing Of The Road That Lies Ahead.  

He Answers Not, to Death or Sword
Violence is the Symphonic Chord,
A Holstered Gun That Knows the Words to Every Line.  

Footsteps Leading To The Door,
A Last-Ditch Rise Before The Fall,
Stood A Soldier, No More Than Three or Four

Here Stood A Bird, Wings To Be Clipped.
A Shallow Grave and One Swift Kick,
Honor Preaches In An Empty Banquet Hall

As The Ring Carried On Throughout The Town
The Shadow's Vision Faded Out
Fate This Day Had Reared Its Ugly Head

The Wide-Brimmed, High-Crowned Duster
Fell Slowly From His Head,
A Remnant Of A Legacy That Bled.  

Young He Was, Picked Up The Hat
Walked To The Door And Opened That
Drowned In The Sun, A Man.

Architects, Flight Without Feathers