The Man in Black plucks a darker pain. Falling, one after another, the energy gives birth to feelings of hurt and trancendence. He hurts himself to see if he still feels. The hopes of the forefathers blows in the wind. The pain maybe the only reality. Flesh is torn by metal. Promises of youth push us foward in the wind. But the further you run, the more do the ghosts of the past return to haunt you. Memories survive their own murder. A kingdom of dirt for a horse. A price too high to bear. A weight to heavy to carry. Unforeseen change denies the balance of good and replaces it with evil. It is easier to remember forgotten sins when you use simple labels to guide your misguided path. But the fruits of nature are abundant and ripe for those who wish to carry with them, the root of the forbidden fruit. The temptation made us mortal, and condemmed us to humanity. But we make beauty from the threads of misery that bind us. A public home is closed to the public when it's doors should remain open in times of crisis. I am a million miles away. The sun shines across a warm body of water. Walking among the elysian fields, the farmer admires his crop. Rough paper hands fade, fade away. The sick become the criminal. Tied up, held down and sedated, he knows not what he sees and cannot speak his mind, for it is broken. Not feeling lonely when abandoned is a worse feeling than pain. It is by using your illusions that you stay alive. Sitting in a liar's chair, angry walls fill the air. When the time is tarnished, the emotions vanish. You have become another, I remain insane. What has become of me? In the great flood, nobody stays to keep you from drowning. Blood is spilt at a last supper. Thoughts that are broken can not be repaired alone. What has become of me, my dear, dear friend?
Anybody I recognize ignores me in the end. And I will not make you rise. I will dissapoint your dreams. I will degenerate your faith. I am a million miles away.
