Tonight
tonight
the world is made of death
and the slowly spinning seasons
sing a song that says "so long"
tonight
existence hangs on every breath
and the mumble and the mutter
in the universe's gutter
among the curses and the clutter
grow quiet as the wheel of time keeps on rolling along
tonight
the very air is hard and still
and the clicking of the clocks
cloak a quickly climbing fear
tonight
the tension flows and grows until
sudden silence cuts it through
and the whispering voices too
cease to talk of what they do
we've paid the cost all sound is lost
even to the most attentive ear
the waking and the waiting and the winking of an eye
the whistle of the wind as a storm is passing by
a hearty gale of laughter, a soft and breezy sigh
these fragments of a failing past
descend into the darkness
their continuation forsaken and denied
tomorrow
the bright sun will be rising
a reminder to remember
a recollection of a song
but tonight
the world is made of dying
and the slowly spinning seasons
send a sign that says "he's gone"
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