My eyes are almost blacker than,
My soul,
Black is perceived when,
Light is entirely absent,
Smoke can no longer be seen,
In this emptiness like,
Heaven,
A figment of your imagination,
Is what I am,
I could disappear,
Into forbiddenness,
I tried to clear this image,
Empty it from my head,
It's something that wanders,
Lonely down streets,
That happen to be dead ends,
But the street is alive,
I'm a ghost with a beating heart,
And I call myself a Phantom.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC
My eyes are almost blacker than,
My soul,
Black is perceived when,
Light is entirely absent,
Smoke can no longer be seen,
In this emptiness like,
Heaven,
A figment of your imagination,
Is what I am,
I could disappear,
Into forbiddenness,
I tried to clear this image,
Empty it from my head,
It's something that wanders,
Lonely down streets,
That happen to be dead ends,
But the street is alive,
I'm a ghost with a beating heart,
And I call myself a Phantom.
