And now, my children,
In the rhythm of the rain that cascades,
Down into the puddles of our garden,
Gone gone gone gone gone.
For the tremble is back and back,
And shakes and shakes and its back,
I'm not scared of that,
Oh no,
I’m scared of what comes after.
Scared of white and the black,
The greys in between.
They call us crazy,
But all we do is think about it,
That dream, which to the normal people appears hazy,
In our minds, it just is more.
Are we enlightened or are we cursed,
God has kept his lips pursed,
And in the seconds that countdown after the sun has retreated,
I know in my heart that death cannot be defeated!
For as the darkness creeps in,
I feel it deep within,
Am I not dead in the dark?
Is death not the dark we were promised deep down.
Is that even a doubt at all?
A strange innate radicalization,
That death is all a falsification,
Is our mind telling the truth,
And we make up these lies to hide it?
They say that lies aren’t all that bad,
When used to keep people happy or sad,
To keep them there for firsthand,
Because in the valleys where all there to see is sand,
Look up and shout to the sky in demand,
“God, take me from this land!”
And thus again he will not listen.