.
•my
arms point
to the sky•
a gesture
                           frozen in                 eter-
                                 nity•un-                fazed as
                                   the clouds                whisper a
        lie•                 rumours of                 rain that
  never               came quickly•            prickles
protrude             menacingly            •threaten-
ing all who          would stray         too close•      
baseless            gossip that   masquerade    
as pleasant-   ry•to deviate me from      
the path i chose•still i stand            
here...duelling the sun          
•in a land scorched            
barren•search-  
ing for hope
when there's 
really none•
here i stand...
lonely and
drought
stricken•
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
­••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
.

There's a sick twisted feeling in my gut,
As you step away with eyes of hate.

*"Don't touch me."

She was conceived of fire
Rubies
And fate

Her long winter breath
Curling down
My hate

Mist on her fingers
Swirling
Beach tides

Snow ladden leaves
Youthful
In Autum's lie

She's sick of November
Thrashing
In grey

It's almost December
Timing
A wolf's prey



*Who would ever save a golden moon?

Making a silent switch I sew
Tied to tides to break me
Raised to drown its hold
Till it's undone
You know I've known wrong
Laid on my own one ray
Bleed me till were one spot
Save me break my legs
Make me run
You know I've known wrong
Wake me
Writing step by sole
Washed away by repeat
Named by all I tow
Under the sun
You know I've known wrong
Washed up
Set your sail my way
Leave me till the hook drop
Raise over and stray
Save no one
You know I've known wrong.

They call him,
The Merchant of Death.
He wanders the earth eternal
Searching, His men to find.

They call him,
The Merchant of Death.
By his side, a record..
Of every man whose time has come by.

Clearing it, he shifts.
Clip after clip
Never leaving a man behind.

It is said, every bullet has a name,
A name on it's head.
The target, through which it shall fly.

They call him,
The Merchant Of Death,
For on each bullet,
The name .. *He signs.

That day, the last day I met her. She
told me something I Will always remember. She told me,
"We might Never meet again, never see each other,
But it'll be okay, time will allow us to Forget, we'll move on to live
beautiful lives, You and I. Full of newer memories, newer joys.
So, for the last time, My Love
- Adieu."