A vacancy has fallen
Upon the land of all want
So barren in hope
Stretching out a hand
To behold nothing but space
The destructive yearn
That pumps through this tired soul
Comes up empty with but an old photograph
Tainted and obscured by the burning light
Of imagination's failure
Where did it go?
The euphorically warm canopy
Of the ever-calming shade
The cool breeze of a lover's touch
To fade away all the sweating troubles
Now only heavy-eyed and slumping frame
With the weight of all that is missed
The triumph of the dark
Adding to its sadistic glory
Like lining its trophies
For the gradual taking of my soul
Which coming morning will it be?
When they have everything from me
That they could ever posses
And their victorious march
Will chant the word of my death