Sitting here on the rough rooftop
Shingles overgrown with moss
Knees pulled to my chest
Inhaling the sweet toxins
Of a cigarette
Pressed between withered fingers
That feel the need
To hold onto something
As if it were everything

Wind runs through my hair
And my eyes stare longingly at the stars
And they stare back

My ears pull in the sounds around me
The whispering winds
The silent moonlight playing
A simple tune
In stark contrast
With the dark symphony in my head

So I try to synchronize with the
Beautiful orb
As it's song
Progresses to a module tone
Of a more complex melody