The songwriter’s dead.
The blade fell upon him
Taking him to the white lands
Of Empathica
Of Innocence.
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One last perfect verse
Is still the same old song
Oh Christ, how I hate what I have become!
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"For eleven years I’ve been strapped unto this altar.
Now I only have 3 minutes and counting.
I just wish the tide would catch me first and give me a death
I always longed for."
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"He stopped crying at the end of each beautiful day.
The music he wrote had too long been without silence.
He was found nakedly dead,
With a smile in his face, a pen and 1000 pages of erased text.”
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The music he wrote had too long been without silence.
He was found nakedly dead,
With a smile in his face, a pen and 1000 pages of erased text.”
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Be still, my son
You are home
When did you become so cold?
The blade will keep on descending
All you need is to feel my love
Search for beauty, find your shore
Try to save them all, bleed no more
You have such oceans within
In the end
I will always love you.
The beginning.
You are home
When did you become so cold?
The blade will keep on descending
All you need is to feel my love
Search for beauty, find your shore
Try to save them all, bleed no more
You have such oceans within
In the end
I will always love you.
The beginning.
