The sky is lit with white-gold light
Day brings the war to sight...

Of course I should be happy with my life
Nothing too horrible happens...

Twisted heaps of steaming metal
blood-speckled concrete looking industrially...

The open fields
The crisp air...

Blurring lines of purple and blue
Coldplay seems to match the winter...

Twisted treasure
Burning ashes...

Flurries of snow, flickering 'cross the road.
Stars like angel eyes in the darkness above...

The gate stood open, reaching
Out into the still darkness...

Down in the dumps
Like the shadows upon the ceiling...

Risen suns
Fade to darkness...

Dying shadows
Leaping flames...

Even as I sit here
Spring's slowly made from Winter...