| The change is made within an innocent breath
|
| A veil around an existence
|
| Accursed with a solitary death
|
| Dancing a line of unending decline
|
| Over chasms I knew not to be
|
| A wave of emotions 'pon desolate oceans
|
| That drown in a lust to be free
|
| Though birds may sing it is oft unsure
|
| Does the joy of life from their spirits stem?
|
| To grace the skies yet shy away
|
| From the eyes that most adore them
|
| All that is hurt and all that is loved are one
|
| Does the blood on these hands
|
| Now dry in the heat of the sun?
|
| Admist a sea of tranquility
|
| Must I writhe on a desperate shore?
|
| A spirit and mind no longer aligned
|
| With an honour I cannot restore
|
| Guilt shall feed the nightmares
|
| That I slumber with this eve
|
| Tomorrow I must walk among the shame
|
| How sad it is, a mind that
|
| Harboured such control and pride
|
| Is now the sickened brethren of the lame |