To the moon, my sweet eclipse of gale.
Tread soundly, have reason spilled upon you.
As sweet white skin drilled with creators upon your face seem new though games of time play tricks upon you.
Have no tricks cloud your new expression while your face is shown.
Shedding reflected light upon the pieces of my past, connected with a spear impaled through the heart of time... still lost along the way.
Have I known the way to reach you, spilling blood on my coffins door. Liquid stained through generations, a starlight yet to show true mornings canvases, past you, reflecting your light of whitest, through red, blue or harvest, thee suspends me above sadness.
Past the frail illusions of day.

"forever isn't real," I tell the boy
who thought we would last forever

Layman's troubles, you fickle bode,
Who picks apart my breaths incentives,
And hastens my growing old.
Oh why can not you find
But one excuse to leave me,
For if the move was partnered
I'd grin and jump across the sea,
To find a locked up place to hide
Til' you decide to change your mind,
And sure you will,
You have before,
Then came with troubles new;
Searched, and found me hidden beneath the floor.

I hope some day you'll understand
My eyes of darkened shades,
And why they churn a fire burning,
Wishing you would end these days.
Only then will I choose to leap
Across the sea once more.
For a chance to walk on ground not burdened
By my troubles
That burn all open doors.