Alive for too longDeath.It was so cold. Gripping his heart. Making it stop. Holding him in it's cold arms, until he could feel no cold no more. Until he could feel nothing at all, until he was nothing.He had been there countless times, but it always left him feeling weak and fragile. Alone and alien. There was something profoundly wrong with coming back from the dead. Not that he could reflect on it while being dead. But that short instance, when blood came rushing back to his brain and he was gasping for air, time seemed to move like syrup. Slow and honey colored the world returned to him. These short seconds provided him with long enough time to question
Fistful of ashMy heart can't be brokenYou may tryBut all you'll get is a fistful of ashWhen I was you my heart burnedWith passion, with anger, with loveIt warmed me and kept me alive In an environment so harsh your tears would freeBut times and climate changedAnd in the warmth the fire was no longer neededSo I let it die downAll that was left in my chestWas crumbling black ashEasily sired by the wind Slowly fallingAnd softly covering the memoriesOf how it's supposed to feelMy heart can't be brokenYou may tryBut all you'll get is a fistful of ash
Waiting for the train in the winterWhistling white demonsFollow in the track of a trainFurious, lash, danceCrystals turn in the wind Live fast, die a terminal death
Sta.sh
