Sweet death at the hour of nine.
Face in the crowd,
ever so endowed.
With that heavy liar's shroud.
Your fate has been interlocked to mine.

Now it's time to find out how
We can die without your lies.
And possess, but not hold onto,
an eternal truth, never to be addressed.
Awaken your heart to view itself
To see that we're all the same spirit.
Take it or leave it.
An existentialist could believe it.

Self written fountain of wealth.
How do you know shapes didn't design themselves?
A thought, sparked in time.
Telling of things known and things told.
Spinning rings, the softest rhymes.
Such a sight unseen is beautiful to behold.

An unfortunate effect, don't think your mind defected.
A truth once cherished is a truth later embellished.
So run with me, at the sweetest hour of nine.
A glowing moon bewitched by our dance of dreams within reality.
And when the hour comes to lose our immortal shine.

You and I will remember singing ever so thoughtfully.
Our own sleeping hymn that we long ago lost but still feel there.
Maybe one day, our hearts will forget they forgot.
And leave our souls once again bare.
To fly unhindered, even the heavens being resigned.
At that sweet hour of nine.