Here is the world, under a bleeding moon, silver as the demons songs of the bamboo groves

It sings and dances the eons away, blissfully ignorant to the horrors that happen around

It has the mind of a child, it sees the world with the sun as a beacon of hope, but it only becons chaos

Here is the world, as a yawning dog in the eves of summer, awareness thin to the quagmire spinning eternally