How perfect is he?
He that was once then,now is gone,
He that was once there,disappears
Into the mist of the horizon.

Crucified in the name of change,
His anatomy turns blue and strange.
His colours slowly fade away.
Washed out like the filter on the shore,
Of his innocence we shall hear no more.

Who is he that brims on the past rivers?
In twinkling stars  of the night he shivers.
His truth is hidden in the dark of a new age,
His mystery is covered by the birth of rage.

How this story ends
Is the beginning of another dimension,
Altered and twisted by rash decisions.
When this ones story is born,
We all wish for yesterday to come back
And die to stop the morrow's drum.