The line on the sand
A scar on the flat surface
A wound from a knife
Temptingly perfect
The idealist’s barrier
Asking to be crossed
Begging to be crossed
Whispering dark promises
Of god, glory, gold
Seductively calling
“Step across my idealist
There will be reward.”
And the cry goes
Unignored by cur’ous ear
That quickly slips pass
So willingly to
Forget the line they, themselves
Drew not to be toucheded
Then they hide the line
Filling it with their morals
All to prevent shame
they draw a new line
On the morality plain
The old forgotten
This new scratch is soon
Crossed as swiftly as the last.
More soul left behind
Until there’s nothing
Just a dark spot in shadows
On the moon’s dark side
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 11:56 AM UTC
The line on the sand
A scar on the flat surface
A wound from a knife
Temptingly perfect
The idealist’s barrier
Asking to be crossed
Begging to be crossed
Whispering dark promises
Of god, glory, gold
Seductively calling
“Step across my idealist
There will be reward.”
And the cry goes
Unignored by cur’ous ear
That quickly slips pass
So willingly to
Forget the line they, themselves
Drew not to be toucheded
Then they hide the line
Filling it with their morals
All to prevent shame
they draw a new line
On the morality plain
The old forgotten
This new scratch is soon
Crossed as swiftly as the last.
More soul left behind
Until there’s nothing
Just a dark spot in shadows
On the moon’s dark side