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Description
What is this feeling of grief?
The pain in my brow?
The distance of smiles?
How wry the humor….
Darkest faces do contend.
Pardon: pardon this ungraceful hand;
A cudgel of lead.
Were there feathery wisps of dreams,
That hang like glistening dew on spider webs;
Entrapped in time.
Like broken glass
We dance with death;
What a beautiful rhythm we portray:
The tinkling of chimes on the wind;
Clashing together in silent agony,
Breathless drumming until the end,
Bathed in colors untasted by innocent eyes.
Oh, were I innocent too….
Please pardon this ungraceful hand;
Timeless icy indifference

Description
What is this feeling of grief?
The pain in my brow?
The distance of smiles?
How wry the humor….
Darkest faces do contend.
Pardon: pardon this ungraceful hand;
A cudgel of lead.
Were there feathery wisps of dreams,
That hang like glistening dew on spider webs;
Entrapped in time.
Like broken glass
We dance with death;
What a beautiful rhythm we portray:
The tinkling of chimes on the wind;
Clashing together in silent agony,
Breathless drumming until the end,
Bathed in colors untasted by innocent eyes.
Oh, were I innocent too….
Please pardon this ungraceful hand;
Timeless icy indifference