Monday, July 14, 2014

We All Fall Down

The silence kills in the dead of night
A pitter, a pat, and you say your goodbyes

The strings always strangle in the gloaming light
They hold you too tight in the civil twilight

The heartache kills on the mornings bright
The chirping birds, they kill the night

Death's cycle and scythe spin round and round
Hitting all, until we all fall down