Life frozen or caught on fire,
why does it matter?
Cut deep or shallow scratch,
in narrow alleys with a patch of darkness.
Falling up or getting down,
a cup of glass cutting our throats.
Mass collections of suicide notes,
and a small amount of hope.
Falling into death in deep with darkness,
seeking thought or maybe not.
Going in circles with out a fight,
not slavery and so far out of sight.
Loss and false hopes binding us down,
its our cost of not being found.
Sounds of voices peek in our heads,
fallen asleep deep in our beds.
Graves of memories found in our dreams,
deep dreams filling with passion and rising with action.
Faith calling and showing our fates,
knowing of death and full of hates.
Sedating our minds and lost hopes of love,
kind and gentle thoughts of warmness,
Killed our fate of endless fought circles,
lonelyness found here between worlds.
The sound of calling,
found and falling.
