• A moment will come and hit you,
    for a choice must be made;
    there will be tears shed;
    demons will be born
    out from the ashes of dreams,
    but who is going to be deserted
    and who is going to be the
    deserter?

    I guess,
    it depends on how we see it...

    Hey now,
    do not cry my love
    the toll of the Bell has not been rung
    yet...
    the sound you just heard was
    someone's rain-beat hope
    hitting the
    ground...

    It's two o'clock in the morning.
    Empty sidewalks
    curling in and out of gray parking lots,
    street lights blinking,
    flirting with my sleepless eyes.

    Oh, I do not want to look at them...

    Alone, wrapped within
    the shadows of my chilling thoughts,
    stepping over broken bottles and
    shallow evidences of fast-love
    left behind by static-less lips.

    I guess, without promises it is easier...

    Hey now,
    is this what I really want?
    Skylines of my beliefs telling me otherwise
    yet...
    electrical storms of drowned sins
    thundering in my
    chromosomes...

    It's four o'clock in the morning.
    I stumbled into my car.
    Through a rain forest of green lights
    abounded roads ahead,
    inviting me to reach the speed of light.

    Oh, I do not want to drive home...

    Cold, unfinished coffee spills on me,
    washing away the corners of my certainty
    and all I can see is you
    smiling at me
    on every stop sign...

    A moment will come, as you are elevated
    and you must choose a crashing site.
    There will be many arms to catch you
    yet only one pair will remain,
    and hallow hands will fade away,
    but who is going to be the lover and
    who is going to be the
    unloved?

    I guess,
    it depends on who is around...