No more room to wonder, and no time left to think
The world is my cup, and I drink its tears
Down, deep down into the dried up crevices of the unsatisfied desire of youth
The young blood, the pervasive spirit
that I cannot quench writhes in agony
Each time a word is birthed
It is a joy to give life unto the world, yet
a harsh reminder of where it needs to be
I can see it clearly, but then another body is placed into rest, and I wonder if I’ll ever figure it out.
Maybe there’s nothing to figure out
Man is evil, the earth is under perpetual assault
But maybe there’s something to be uncovered in all the bloodshed
That men can be redeemed
and a star can be reborn

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