The world is dead
Nothing is breathing, pulsing
An achromatic scheme of dark
But white cannot exist in a black and grey sea
I see a man
Beckoning for me to come
He, dressed in black with a crescent
I need only to follow to escape my fear of this life
I rise to kiss the crescent
Steal one last look at the world of gray
Falling in his arms I see stars for eyes
A dream floating in towards the black of a moonless night
Now I belong with those like me
Escapers of this thing called life
A lie for the optimists
A wish for the best outcomes imaginable
A kiss for the crescent
Before you go home to mother
Will bring you to me, where you belong
I am all you need to breathe, to live, to cry, to die
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
The world is dead
Nothing is breathing, pulsing
An achromatic scheme of dark
But white cannot exist in a black and grey sea
I see a man
Beckoning for me to come
He, dressed in black with a crescent
I need only to follow to escape my fear of this life
I rise to kiss the crescent
Steal one last look at the world of gray
Falling in his arms I see stars for eyes
A dream floating in towards the black of a moonless night
Now I belong with those like me
Escapers of this thing called life
A lie for the optimists
A wish for the best outcomes imaginable
A kiss for the crescent
Before you go home to mother
Will bring you to me, where you belong
I am all you need to breathe, to live, to cry, to die
