I feel the night,
as I feel the despondency.
an aching backbite,
that's with me constantly.

I feel the night,
as I fall into uncertainty.
has falling from great heights,
become the end of me?

I feel the day,
when I've skipped the melancholia.
with fears washed away,
I dream of utopia

I feel the day,
when the night is gone.
I'll be there someday,
So I march on.

It's sad to see when the ladybugs mourn
Somber dark faces with whites turned down
Trudging along forlorn and lost
For they mourn for the love of the world
They feel the cracking of the great pines
As they give the last ***** to their lovers
They sense the splitting of creeks
Two lives to leave and lead separately
As the bubbling water gets faster and clear
They mourn the day coming to an end
And they mourn the cold of the night
They feel the sadness of a courting buck
Instinctually driven but thoughts vacant
Individuality non existent, in an evolutionary daze
Predators chase prey and the rest is nil
They cary their spots as sinful stains of the world
Feeling through their sextupled appendages
Every feeling, consideration, entrenched to a wing

To be loved to death is another thing
I become you and you become me
And we go about the life as a river
Going with the land hand in hand
As we trickle to the lows and pool
in some places. We go and move and bubble
Chatting and nudging one another along
Til we stop.

The innocent ****** with his dam
Building in the center of our path
Our journey stops but we are together
The building there to catch us on our final venture
Holding one another as we reach the end
To be loved to death is another thing.