The Sunsets Followers
Woe is the manwho sits quiet impatiently
Smiling in shadow's
as fake as the sunsets followers
To another life he'll walk
yet not soon enough
For time is his heart
and pain is his blood
Something grows inside of him
as a blooming black rose
Beginning as the end
and ending as the beginning
Much sorrow is behind his eyes
while in his hands
Is a waning white feather
known as peace
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