While you sit there
painting pretty pictures...

In the muddy river of angels
i see bodies lying there...

You can watch me fall
teardrops upon silk...

I have arrived
inside a tombstone of your guilt...

I pick at the scabs of the burning fire
recovered by your eyes, simple and sapphire...

Can you see the heart pierce through the mourning...
do you believe those words on which you were born...

He is alone, a blackened mess
disturbed by the voices, haunting noise...

Incomplete without you.
let me feel your warmth...

Reaching
beneath...

There she stands,
a tragic beauty, only enhanced...

When a yellow leaf
of autumn...

Fire drenched in sorrow, the screaming wearing...
cuts are mended, hearts split open...