Faith/Perjury

Look into my eyes, see the burning sun
and listen to the winds. Hear them count. One;
two; three. End of life.
End of eternity.
The paths glisten from litter of the past.
"It won't last," he says,
"It won't always be the same."

But it's just the price we pay
to keep this Hell from getting in the way
and when we stop. Think about this.
Think about the light,
long since dead. But then
remember, what he once said.
Change will come one day.

Perjury never was his style,
but maybe just once, maybe while
we're searching for a better life,
he lied. He wasn't right.
Times like this are killing me,
looking how it should have been.
I never thought it'd die.