Send to waste
the mindless beings
whom drain us all
and slowly bleed the world
With lies and mock.
 
Send to save
the mindful spirits
whom bring us love
and hold each other in hope

Gone outside into a land of green
on a day without a shade of grey
joy and laughter brought upon our souls
as we passed about a hundred oaks
lost in a sea of wonder
together
Just Mary and I

Oil-filled eyes
face made of glass
it had no feelings
It had no batteries

It's eyes stared at a different world
an empty place
All had a glass face

The body was incomplete

Left home in the cold of night
moon in sight
leaves still falling
the path was mine
and mine alone
nothing to remind me
Of what had occured

Slow steps becoming slower
I felt it hard and I knew where it hurt
it was the same pain I felt
when I learned my father
Would never return

It was too much to bear
that what I had lost
Was all that cared

Now alone I wander about

Cold day in winter
trees have withered and the Earth
become
Our gloomy lake of crystal

Grey the beauteous sky
gazed by sullen eyes
it all seemed so true
So right

Near the edge
of a concrete road
a quiet man strolled
shivering beneath his feet
hundreds of bones
He was hollow

Fog roamed thick
and in the distance
one could hear
the sudden weak cry
Of the broken man

The ocean wailed
as I set sail
in a ship of old age
Made of old black shells

I heard her voice
I had no choice
and so she was left immersed
No hand close enough to save her

She can't be saved
she can't be saved
I'm sorry but it's too late

The smell of your eyes
they squint pink
from the fire of my decisions
now you've closed the door
and left me to think
About how I'm so different

In time your eyes
they'll begin to starve
for what long ago
you had lost
and I'll remain high above
without you
better off

A victim I am
to your envious heart
born within you
the day I died
you don't mourn
for my poor soul
instead you plead
"Why you and not I?"

(And) If the sun had never risen
would there be this flower
Still blooming upon the Earth?

(And) If this flower had never been born
would her beauty have been felt
By this unworthy soul?

(And) If her beauty had never existed
would these words of love
Still have been written?

(And) If this love had never been
would this life
Be worth living?