Mantraschism
01-26-2004, 05:20 PM
Love on a whim and death in a word
Crimson clouds streak across the sky
Still in a world that is flying past
No will to move or breathe
Don’t make a sound
Saw you down in the choking fog
As stagnant in life as the rotting water
Vines strangle the light and the passion
Where the air is damp and heavy
Don’t make a sound
Watched you try to leave this place
Heard them when they stirred
You never would listen to a word I said
Too complacent to save you
Don’t make a sound
Felt the shadows close in around you
The wind shuddered and moaned
Lay down in the decay and mud
Resting days are come
Don’t make a sound
By a touch, you were gone.
Gently screaming.
Crimson clouds streak across the sky
Still in a world that is flying past
No will to move or breathe
Don’t make a sound
Saw you down in the choking fog
As stagnant in life as the rotting water
Vines strangle the light and the passion
Where the air is damp and heavy
Don’t make a sound
Watched you try to leave this place
Heard them when they stirred
You never would listen to a word I said
Too complacent to save you
Don’t make a sound
Felt the shadows close in around you
The wind shuddered and moaned
Lay down in the decay and mud
Resting days are come
Don’t make a sound
By a touch, you were gone.
Gently screaming.