and disappear without a sound.
The clouds gather overhead and black,
Cemetery weather.
If I walk all day,
and survive the night.
Maybe something will come,
For those who have nothing to live for.
Bury my conscience,
Under the white owl of night.
The universe shouts to me,
"Come closer to me, my son"
So the present time is nothing,
And the future is something.
The light in the dark is seeping through,
Maybe there is something for me.
Tonight.
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