everything is so lackluster
empty as the carcass of a crow
the sounds of breaking glass
between these rotting teeth
play the melody of this room
filled with last years stale bread
dry and hard like the boulder in sand
the coffee tastes bitter on my tongue
and this smoke fills my lungs
with the false hope of a future
the rain beats upon the tin roof
and the cries of all the people
are masked like a bride on her day
but the joy does not linger
no smiles warm like summer skies
just dim light from the setting sun
a wishful feeling of more to come
as the night sets in to end the day
we will become the wolves
the sons and daughters of the moon
howling our lamentations
of lost life in the eves of yesterday
we are children of a time that never was
the spirits of this ephemeral space
A place that existed in the hell of death
That never really was attained
so rest your mind upon the grave
we never were and never will be