The music never stops,
The heart is always broken.
The sun is always setting,
And the door is always open.
Summers are forever ending,
And the waters are always cold.
The flight's still leaving in the morning
No matter how tightly we hold.
The food is over, there is water
Enough for one sip, maybe two.
They ate through your dreams,
And now they hunger for you.
The words don't flow, they march,
Angry and militant, a zealot tide.
Their torches are blazing bright,
There are no shadows where I could hide.
My soul remembers only sorrow.
The night is no longer my friend.
There is no great hall of greater men,
Just a quiet, wasted place waiting at the end.
The cold has come to visit,
And sits contented in the room.
You don't know when you're dying,
But you get a feeling it'll be soon.
And you're glad.
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