Vastly and taken, among us
We walk alone
As have we always
And shall we continue
Our minds aren't always
As silenced as we should be
We listen and evaluate,
As if its our job, to gain the knowledge of you
To figure you out.
To know our jobs of further corruption.
Against anyone and everyone
And we watch, as to gain power
To know what to do to make you ***** inhabitants of our mother earth live in fear and restlessness.
We are the control
You, our puppets
We decide if and when to free you from your strings
Only attached to crosses as
To represent religion
Falling far from it in your falling out with a god, after being cut
Only to figure out you knew nothing of what religion really stood for
Because after all? Who really knows?
But us.
We are complete control. Learn to obey and get into our rythm of speaking, so you lip it, they think its opinions.
We.the collectors.
Gathering stars
In an infinity of black charred sky.
We must add color to our canvas.
We, gathering your glass tears in our paper jars
Throwing them to the sky.
So you'll forever remember mourned loved ones until you become that as well.
And you think stars are some beautiful representation of life, we all burn out.
Some might be.
Tears of joy. Proposal on a sunny day. A new family. Warm and fuzzy memories for you to store.
But to collectors, stars are to remind you
That even in a black nothing land
There is still suffering.
The sun isn't getting closer
But only bigger and still enlarging rapidly
As there will always be pain
And suffering
Tragedy in great masses.
Broken hearts.
Stars are to show remembrance in bad times.
What else is there out in the cold of space?
You don't know.
Exactly.
You know nothing of what is to come.
Of what you are to become.
