The lifting sensation of morning light
Holding onto the things
Which have vanished with strife
Please, steady the pound of my fists
As I cling onto dear life
The grey masking, seething
Because the strokes of lightning strike
Ring in the contraption of my broken chin
Fly out into the opening expanse
And slather the paint on the gashes within
Holding, clinging onto this sheer flight
As the ground below me decide to plummet
Into an endless pit clashing tonight