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• Artiste: Immedia
• Titre: Weather
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Glowing, backlit, and stark. Into the dark, this seared decent, of The destruction in the sky, That still insisted heaven sent. And cold my bones the chill bites through what I am wrapped, The outer thin Of leather. Hear the weather Never gets, and never will give in. On this cold and ever undulating drive. I've witnessed all I wish to see Or that my other could abide. And given out like taking in, Takes loosening my rigid fist. For if I don't I know it now, it might be taken from the wrist. So this remembrance of my arrival On the day of my decline. The lines look cleaner now of how, But it's still why, that's undefined. And now To stop would take much more than simply giving up, I know I'd lose eternity, security, I'm their clay to corrupt. In holding my lip to the glass, I feel it giving Into my soul as if to steal into the living. Means that it's lost, confusing costs, so have I failed? If only I knew how, or maybe to which cross that I'd be nailed. In holding my bone to the ground I feel it tearing. The pain against light through each sound beyond all bearing. If there were a key to release, I'd pay obtaining. Rather than stay in this slow eternal draining. Dear God. Dear God. Dear God. Dear God. Dear God.