Are we but the colour of dying?
Existing in a world not our own
Purged from the second awakening
With a hoarse throat bleeding from exertion
Like pale, ashened gauze
Did I scream so much when this happened before?
There's a hoard of the helping haggling in the dark
Is this one too much of a risk?
Who am I to gamble a roll?
The frozen gambit, bluntly bare
Diseased with ineptitude
Sharpness fused with softness
Too much for desecrated eyes to bear
Hallow to the end, I'm hollow in everyway
Throw down the gauntlet
I'm here to make your day
Hold me till the moon cries
Singing its lullaby
But it never finds its sleep
Why torment it so?
Just a little girl, crying in her sleep and the hurricanes fly
Rivers in the air as the winds whip it up real good
Just like the streams of tortured rapids running down pale skin
My back is bare; take it for the taking
Are we but the colour of dying?
Is this really what I am meant to achieve?
Learning how to die
You think this is rehearsed
Learning how to walk into the funeral throng
This is not a drama
This is the bitter curse, the damned upon this earth
I'm not dead, just existing in another's world
And the days are growing old
What is it I flee from?
Free my name
Carved on the tombstone
I'm not dead, just living in another's world
Or am I just the colour of dying?
