Whose hands are these? I think I know,
But feel them not, now as I go.
My mind's own words, my grace, my foe,
Fly from my lips and for control-

I cannot let them win.
What art, what chords can save me now,
Before my soul can flee
From treacherous conformity?
I know not whether I need a doctor or a poet,
A needle or a quill.
I need to break
This ugly iambic-

These robots marching hand in hand,
These red lights flashing o'er the land;

I think I'd rather die alone
Than dine with one of many drones.

When time passes by, only time can bestow
An icy cold breath known as death or as snow.
And quickly and quicker, the old clock will fly;
If just for a second, I'd slow it and sigh.
The world would stop spinning, and we would be free
From death and the burden that's following me.
If just for a moment, all time ceased to be,
Oh, Nothing would end, and the restless would sleep,
My weakness would freeze, lost in time on my face,
The fear in my heartbeat could no longer race,
I'd stop that tick-ticking and stop the decay,
The shaking and aching, the shrieks as we pay
Our debts to the time, to the time, death, and snow.
I'd slow my own pendulum life it bestows.
And, oh, the relief if belief became mindless;
If hope guides my heartbeat, then heaven is timeless-

The grey blots, they shiver across the white dawn
Mist cloaking the echoes of creaking birch trees
The cold silver smoke floats above the chilled pond
Which ripples, and placidly swims with the breeze

The grey ink, it spills and it wets the white sky
Now dripping the icy wet shivering beads.
The winds push away the cool fog, pinpricks fly
And cling to light cobwebs and shudd'ring green leaves

The black ink's soaked up by the grumbling high seas
The static and glass flicker down to the ground
The trees bend and flail in the whistling rip, seized
The pond is alive with wet ripples of sound

Black dawn crashes down as it rages with fire
Red flashes on darkness, they shriek and they scream
It wails like sirens, the birch trees so tired
Too bent, bruised, and broken to hold at the seams

I'd pick up and leave to go find that good home
Out there, somewhere near, it is golden and warm
Too heavy's my heart for the forest I've known
For those thrashing birches must suffer the storm
In sanctified soil, they've rooted and grown
They never could linger from where they were born

The sky's now torn open, the world is no more
But the trees, rooted firmly still wait out the storm.

When Summer is gone and the crimson snow rains
And melts to the floor to end her life's pain
It gathers in waste, the whiteness of youth
Twas murdered last night. Twas murdered by you.

The children do lark; I watch with blurred eyes
They grow in rebellion, by secrets they hide
Soon they'll be like me: Changed for the worse
And no longer innocent, no longer worth it.

A blossom must wilt once it's cut and adored
The children are leaving, they're breaking down doors
We can't keep them safe, in the dark, and unknown
Who would've thought children had hearts of their own?

They won't listen now, won't learn from my faults
In them lays myself, can't take it much longer
I tried to protect them from ****** and love
Like me, they wouldn't hear it. Truth wasn't enough.

I look to the children, with blurry wet eyes
And watch as, in vain, they try and they try
To hold their dear children from falling as we
Did ****** our own youth, but now we are free.
And every last moment we wish to go back
To summer and youth and to things that we don't have.

Travel all around the Earth
Sacrificing more than worth
After years of suffering
The Earth is round, so home you'll be

No matter how much you want to see light
You cannot end the dark of light
At dawn, as glad as you are then
You cannot stop night from falling again