Progressionary circumstance.

Time has displayed the worst of virtues,
hope is now hostility.
Once everything shined with possibility,
all that was solid, was just tissue.

And I keep ripping it,
keep taring at it bit by bit.
Now nothing fits and everyone is sick;
people say it's the glasses i'm wearing,
causing all this fearing.
But the worlds been searing;
for as long as it's been spinning.

Now here I stand in a new golden city,
far from a northern calamity.
"This time i'll make good"
My words burn just as good as any wood.

My dream you understood;
is falling down as far as I've ever stood.
We'll fall with your sweet faith cradled,
you'll get up, I'll be broken -
you'll leave with the last words I've truly spoken.

Carry my love as a token if at all;
It'll be huddled in the mud...
or under your feet as you walk,

But my love by your side?
Was always a big waste of your time.