My trip, my flight by night
Clouds, crowds, flying in dreams, rivers and streams
The places I went, the things I have seen.
It’s a trip untaken by many but for the few who know, the dream seems real.
Through the mind clouds were past.
I couldn’t take the dream, it was death.
Life refused.
Maybe if life didn’t refuse, the knife wouldn’t be confused?
The knife of life is said to be the source of death.
Death to you and I is the reason why we need to fly.
Explain how high and I’m willing to die.
Give me the death I deserve.
Give me the knife I need and watch me bleed.
The time has come to let life die because peace and war are dead and so are the tears of killings they have lead. They have killed for war.
When we’re all dead, they’ll be no more.
Lay the knife to rest.
Sleep will suit us best