Death has tiptoed through my mind
Fogging my mind like a dreary fall day
Whether it be upon that rock
Hand in hand, the trees whistling
When I stared you in the eyes
And said "I could die here. Right now"
Or in the darkest of moments
Where I imagine my death beyond a dream
And then it drifts away like sunset
Leaving me still within the emptiness
Day by day, it is one or the other
But somehow I push through it
As I yearn for the final breath of air
Seized by my very own brittle hand
I've painted myself blue, stuck in still life
Walking through the still life of my soul