I stared once at this box
With a golden pink sign
"Femininity" it said

And yet the box was black
A sealed and hidden front
Pry it open? T'was quite hard

I know that this Pandororos' box
Holds some treasure at the top
I dread however, all the rot below

I think often of this box
All the treasure near its top
Creativity, care and justice

Pandororos - all the gifts at the top
And I still dread, what hides just below that top
Blood and tears, bits of flesh
All the rot below the top

The skies turned gray
The rain shattered your soul
You walk aimlessly
Hopelessly

Longing to be
With the rebels
Who brought colors to the world
Desperately

Your eyes are searching color in the gray
All they see is red
A hungry
Wrathful color

Filled with pain
And dejection
You beg to see a different color
One of joy

One of hope
One of light
The grey grows tiresome
In the night

The colors will soon glow

The sky turned red
Then sunny hues of yellow
It turned black
But soon the light came through

A decade of torture
A decade of pain
Culminating in the moment
When the skies turned red again

Screams of joy
Screams of grief

Rebels gathered strong
In piles of tortured souls
Finally screaming
Finally free

You watch the revolution from afar
Although you know you brought it upon
A world of misery
Culminating in the moment

The revolution
That lasted a decade
The sky turned red again
Then yellow

Suddenly it was dark
But soon the light came through

Teach them holes are for hiding
And they'll hide
They'll hide and cower
Cower and cry

Once danger strikes
In their holes - they'll hide
Crying, pleading
Hoping it'll pass them by

Teach them holes are for hiding
And don't expect them to fight
When danger strikes
And they're stuck in their pits

Hiding
Cowering
Crying
Hoping

They say the city has no landscape
No life
Nothing but concrete
Nothing but steel

They say that
Without ever looking
At the city
In the night

Feral cats
Squirming bugs
And although the trees are small
They loom over small unlit paths

Lonely dogs
Flying moths
And although the buildings are imposing
They too are part of it all

They're our homes
And the homes of rodents
Pigeons
And even more squirming bugs

The city's not dead
But we are

One, two, three
Silver coins
Silver scales

Four, five, six
They go down
One by one

Seven, eight, nine
In a bucket
Plucking them out

Ten, eleven, twelve
Blood and pleadings, cries
Squeezing wounds and lies

Gathering Gifts
For a Goner's grave
For his parting breath
For his one and only death

Throw them in the pit
Where he is
Where he took his life
Where he jumped right in

Toys
Clothes
Diaries
And Letters

Everything he owned
Everything he cherished
In that hell hole it shall go
In that fiery pit

"Fire? But it's just dirt in there."
Yes, it is just filth and grime
But not until we commit a crime
Strike a match and make this grave

Ashen