Walking a Death Valley of colour
Searching for just the blues...

Tears of laughter in the dying light
The good all hanging from a great height...

In the time before the fall
before the setting of the Sun...

Squashing insects beneath our fingers
No consideration for such little lives...

Disconcerting conversations
The Gypsy works his disabled tongue...

I need a life
Cant find the life...

A poisoned fog they prayed for
Comes rolling from the lake...

Mourning the death of spiders
In a mausoleum made of maggots...

"Who are you" speaks the king
"I am death and but a small little thing...

One last while before forever
Comes to call upon our names...

Secrecy blinds us from the truth
In angels eyes...

Iridescent light fades
Fighting to a loss against the dark...