|
The phoenix is dying |
|
The flames that revive her are dead |
|
And the freedom of flying |
|
Is pushing us too far ahead |
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But it's no use in crying |
|
The tears have long since been shed |
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And the sunsets behind us |
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Can only remind us |
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Of sentences yet to be read |
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We must always remember |
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The faces that line our rooms |
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Are the last dying embers |
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Of people we left in their tombs |
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But we couldn't condemn their |
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Pathetic attempts to consume us |
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So we just had to leave them |
|
As the ground underneath them |
|
Grinned widely predicting their dooms |
|
The time is arriving |
|
When lovers will call out your name |
|
And the con-men are striving |
|
To infiltrate into your game |
|
And they know you're surviving |
|
And they know you're remaining the same |
|
As we look to each other |
|
Like sister to brother |
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And our happiness bursts into flame |
|
Now the beckoning finger |
|
That calls you and I to our fate |
|
Is still screaming don't linger |
|
Your questions may prove too late |
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And the one lonesome singer |
|
Whose years have been sadness and hate |
|
Has gone with her lover |
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To find things above her |
|
And resume life at some later date |
|
Has gone with her lover |
|
To find things above her |
|
And resume life at some later date |
