The Fall

On the fall of the eve of the last day of life,
All will be perfect and right.
The sins of your past will give birth to regret and from there fade forever from sight.

On the fall of the eve of the last day of love,
You'll know not what to feel or believe,
For the dull of the blade upon which you depend is the tool with which death was achieved.

And the hours tick by as the sands slowly shift and drop silently down through the glass,

And all that you knew to be true in your heart but never could feel comes to pass.